


His Redemption

by obitohno



Category: Naruto
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Porn, Angst and Romance, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Crimes & Criminals, Dark Past, Depression, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Drama, Drama & Romance, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gang Violence, Gun Violence, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Kakashi - Freeform, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Love Confessions, Love Triangles, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Modern AU, Modern Era, Multi, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Rough Sex, Sakura - Freeform, SasuNaru - Freeform, Self-Harm, Sex, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Stalking, Strangers to Lovers, Team 7 - Freeform, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Torture, Tragic Romance, Violence, kakasaku - Freeform, obisaku, obito - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22273996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obitohno/pseuds/obitohno
Summary: After unknowingly moving in next-door to a renown gang-leader, Sakura is thrust into a foreign world tainted by the scars of his past. Will she be able to help him redeem his sins before they finally catch up to him?
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi, Haruno Sakura/Hatake Kakashi/Uchiha Obito, Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Obito, Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 365
Kudos: 655





	1. いち

**Author's Note:**

> \- i do not own any of Naruto.  
> \- hihi readers! so, just to add a trigger warning; this story will contain themes of sexual, violent content, including lots of smut and references to abuse/violence/self harm/suicide. there'll also be mentions of mental health illnesses, so if any of these themes are triggering to you, please do not read.  
> \- this will be a crime/gang related story, but will also include romance, and since i've been wanting to write a kakashi/obito fic for a while, i thought it fitting to write my next story about them, so hopefully i'll do them some justice... i hope you enjoy!  
> \- this will also be posted on fanfiction.net

Hatake Kakashi is no stranger to women, much to Sakura’s dismay.

It’s a fact that the pinkette learns just a few days after moving into her new apartment block. On the first morning of her arrival, she’d exchanged introductions with the rest of her neighbours, only the _silver-haired man with the weird face mask_ \- as new neighbour Naruto had described him to her - hadn’t answered her polite knock, his apartment situated just a door down from her own. She’d left with the promise to return the next day.

On the second morning, Sakura had been _so_ sure that she’d seen a man, of similar description, standing out on the shared balcony, a cigarette in hand. However, by the time she’d stepped out onto the concrete, said figure had disappeared from sight. And once again, there was no answer at number 34.

By the end of the third day, she was beginning to wonder if he existed at all.

However, by nightfall, she was all too aware of his presence.

After yet another tiresome day of unpacking her belongings, she’d rudely awoken by the sound of loud, chaotic laughter in the early hours of the morning. At first, she thought she’d imagined it, considering the apartment next door had been seemingly vacant since the day she’d moved in. But when she hears the noise again, followed by the sound of a low, gruff voice - a man’s voice, she realises - she sighs heavily. She gives them the benefit of the doubt, hoping that they’ll be quick to go to sleep, only for her hopes to diminish into thin air when she then hears a breathy moan.

The man’s voice follows, evidently deeper than his female company. Sakura rolls over in bed, holding her pillow over her head. She isn’t sure what time it is, but she suspects that she has just a few hours to get some rest before she has to be up for work.

However, despite her silent prayers - and much to both her annoyance and horror - the _silver haired man with the weird face mask_ proceeds to keep her awake until six o’clock in the morning. It is with an exhausted sigh that she manages to haul herself from the bed, eyelids drooping heavily. Her neighbour has finally silenced, not that it is needed now.

Rubbing her eyes, Sakura goes about her morning routine, ready to start her day with a much needed cup of coffee. Fridays at the clinic are always busier than the rest of the week, for a reason both Sakura and Ino have given up trying to comprehend. And so with yet another sigh, she leaves her apartment, pausing to ensure the door is locked behind her. But as she steps out into the hall, the door to number 34 quietly creaks open.

Sakura glances up to see a scarcely dressed woman exiting the apartment, attempting to tip-toe as she swings the door shut. Blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun, the woman carries her heels in one hand, purse in the other, her clothes haphazard as if she’d rushed to get dressed. She wears a scowl that matches Sakura’s and the pinkette concludes that the blonde had indeed just been thrown out. A pink brow rises as the blonde turns and lets out an admirably high-pitched shriek at the sight of the woman stood before her, arms crossed over her chest.

‘O-Oh god,’ she all but exclaims. ‘You sure scared the crap out of me, lady!’

Sakura doesn’t apologise.

She eyes the woman with a look of disapproval but just as her lips are parting, the door swings open once again.

Naruto had been right, Sakura thinks as she takes in his mop of silver hair that hangs across his forehead, wild and unkempt. And there _is_ a mask, she’s surprised to see that fact is also true, green eyes boring into where she assumes his lips are, hidden behind the fabric. He’s tall. Much taller than either herself or the blonde who is even shorter than Sakura is. He’s clad in makeshift pyjamas - a loose tank-top and a pair of jogging bottoms that hang dangerously loose on his hips. _One wrong move and-_

 _God._ What is she thinking?

She blinks up at him, immediately tensing as she realises that he’s caught her staring. Awkwardly clearing her throat, she takes a small step forward, thrusting her hand in front of his face.

‘H-Hi,’ she grimaces at how her voice stutters. ‘I’m Sakura,’ she offers a forced, but polite, smile, ‘I just moved in next-’

‘I know.’

He completely ignores the blonde as if she’s not stood right before him, and this only causes her scowl to deepen.

Sakura’s outstretched hand falls to her side, realising that he’s not going to return her handshake. ‘Oh... well I tried to-’

‘I know,’ he interrupts again, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest. The movement makes his biceps tense and Sakura chides herself for allowing her eyes to dart to the offending muscle, glaring at his skin. Yawning wide, the man looks at her, expression bored, ‘I heard you.’

‘Oh,’ Sakura’s shoulders slump. Her brows pinch together, annoyed. She’s sure it shows, as the man before her makes a little noise at the back of his throat before his dark, dark eyes languidly look her up and down. She grips her work-bag a little tighter, gritting her teeth. ‘Well, as I said, I’m-’

‘Sakura,’ he cuts her off once more, voice now sounding amused as she fails to hide the glare she aims at him. And then to her surprise, he leans forward, offering his hand. ‘Kakashi,’ is all he says as she reluctantly accepts his handshake. His hand is warm, much larger than her own. She almost relishes his touch until she remembers just what he had been doing that had kept her up all night. She all but snatches her hand away, shifting uncomfortably under his stare.

‘And I’m Temari,’ the blonde to her right snaps.

Kakashi looks at her eyes gleaming with confusion, appearing to have completely forgotten she was there. He scratches the back of his neck, ‘Temari? I thought your name was-?’

‘Wow,’ it is Sakura who interrupts him this time. Temari, the blonde, scoffs loudly. She almost looks as if she wants to cry and Sakura feels a little sorry for her. She glares at Kakashi on behalf of the other woman, who - without saying another word - rushes down the hallway as best she can without shoes on. Sakura gawks after her, wincing when the main door slams shut. The noise ricochets down the hall, and Sakura listens to it echo.

‘Tsk,’ Kakashi tuts, as if disapproving of the noise. He’s scratching his abdomen when Sakura looks at him, her nose turned up into a sneer.

His eyes bore into hers, expression lacking any signs of remorse.

Sakura stares back, incredulous. ‘Is that how you treat all women?’ She can’t help it. The question slips out before she can stop it. And Kakashi doesn’t appear to appreciate it either. He straightens up, standing a little taller, gaze sterner.

‘She got what she came here for.’

As if she’d forgotten how he'd kept her awake all night, Sakura’s frown deepens, ‘I’m sure.’

He looks as if he doesn’t know how to answer. Or maybe he purposely doesn’t. She’s not sure.

But once she checks the time on her watch, she realises that she has just twenty minutes to make her way to work. ‘Shit,’ she curses softly, turning away without looking at him. Yet when her hand curls around the handle of the main door, Kakashi calls out to her again.

‘See you ‘round,’ he says lowly. Sakura glances at him from over her shoulder, fighting back the urge to shudder once she catches sight of the scowl he aims at her. Then, as if a switch had been flicked, he’s smiling - or at least, that’s what she assumes by the crinkling of the corner of his eyes. Taken aback, she stumbles, losing her footing. She manages to catch her balance on the door, and Kakashi’s eyes squint down at her. ‘Be careful there,’ he mocks, waving a hand, ‘have a good day... neighbour.’

Sakura all but runs out of the apartment block, exhaling with relief once the door slams shut.

All the way to work, she dawdles.

Her introduction to her new neighbour wasn’t what she’d planned at all. She’d hoped they’d exchange pleasantries, maybe occasionally share cups of sugar if needed. But after meeting him, Sakura already knows that she’ll now be doing everything to avoid bumping into him again.

New neighbour Naruto hadn’t warned her about how _annoying_ the silver haired man is. How rude and sarcastic he is. 

_How frustratingly hot he is._

As soon as the thought enters her head, she shakes it free, scolding herself.

_No. No. No._

She wasn’t going to go there. Especially not with someone she’s just met.

She’s lost in thought until the moment she reaches the clinic, almost walking face-first into the glass door. Huffing down her embarrassment, she hopes that no one notices her stumble her way through the reception and towards her office, barely remembering to breathe a greeting to Hinata at the front desk.

The navy-haired woman scuttles after her, closing her office door for her. Sakura discards her coat and bag onto the two seater couch before she slumps heavily in the chair at her desk, groaning as she rubs at her eyes. Hinata places a file on Sakura’s desk, offering an apologetic look as she watches the pinkette glance at the folder.

‘He’s new,’ Hinata tells her, soft spoken and smiling sweetly as Sakura glances up at her. ‘He signed up last-’

She’s interrupted by the sound of the door flying open so violently that it smacks back onto the wall behind. Ino bounds into the room, clapping her hands excitedly, beaming. She wraps a strong arm around Hinata’s shoulder - who squeaks with surprise as she almost topples over - and squeezes. ‘Did you tell her? Did you, did you?’

Hinata points at the file on the desk, ‘I was just-’

‘Oh my god, Sakura!’ Ino exclaims, interrupting. ‘You have _got_ to see this new patient - I practically begged Tsunade to let me have him, but she said some shit about professionalism - that stone-faced bitch. I mean, how the hell am _I_ not professional?’

Sakura stifles a laugh, leaning back in her chair.

Ino’s hands are snatching up the file from the desk before Sakura can take a peek. ‘God,’ Ino groans, dropping the file back down so that it smacks against the surface. ‘It’s _so_ unfair.’

‘I’m sure,’ Sakura smirks, Hinata giggling behind her hand.

‘Just wait until you see him. I can’t believe Tsunade is letting _you_ have him.’

Sakura lets the comment slide, reaching for the file. Not bothering to read the name on the front, she flicks the first page open. But as soon as she sees the photograph that is paper clipped to the information sheet, she sits up straight in her seat, slack jawed.

‘Sakura?’ Ino notices her shocked expression, frowning at her friend’s reaction. The pinkette doesn’t reply and Ino’s frown deepens. ‘Okay, I know he’s hot but-’

‘I _know_ him,’ Sakura snaps at her, glowering.

‘You do?’ Ino asks, dubious.

Sakura drops the file to the desk, head in her hands as she groans loudly, ‘he’s my new neighbour. I met him this morning.’

Ino’s grin is mischievous, ‘oh?’

Sakura grimaces, ‘don’t look at me like that. He’s not hot at all. He’s such a... a... whore.’ Hinata’s eyes widen at the insult, cheeks red. ‘I bumped into his one night stand this morning... he didn’t even remember her name. Asshole.’

Ino snorts, ‘just your type then,’ she laughs at Sakura’s annoyed expression, Hinata’s one of concern.

‘I can’t believe this,’ Sakura groans again, head tilted back as she stares up at the ceiling. She’d just promised herself that she was going to do her best to avoid said silver-haired man. It was just her luck. _Of course_ she’d be the one assigned as his doctor. She sighs. Today is just going from bad to worse.

‘Maybe you could ask Tsunade if someone else-’ Hinata starts, words dying on the tip of her tongue at the sound of Ino clearing her throat. The navy-haired woman swallows, stuttering nervously as she corrects her words, ‘o-or maybe you could recommend that Ino-?’

‘Yes,’ the blonde cuts her off, hand forming a fist as she grins, eyes gleaming with glee, ‘this is perfect.’

Sakura lifts her head to look at her friend, bewildered, ‘it is?’

‘Uh, duh?’ Ino looks at the pinkette as if she’s grown two heads. ‘I take over as his doctor and you get to fuck him without getting into trouble. You know, conflict of interest and all that crap.’

‘I’m _not_ going to f-’ she clears her throat at the poor choice of wording, ‘I’m not going to sleep with him, Ino.’

Ino almost looks offended, ‘come on, Sakura. He’s hot. _And_ he lives next door, so you know, no walks of shame.’

Sakura runs a hand over her face, ‘sometimes, I honestly... really question why I’m still friends with you.’

Hinata titters at this and Ino pretends to not have heard her.

‘I’ll ask Tsunade if I can hand him over,’ Sakura decides then, much to her friend’s delight. ‘If you want to deal with a sarcastic womanising moron, then be my guest. Rather you than me.’

Ino completely ignores her bitter tone, sighing dreamily as she stares down at the folder, the first page open to show his picture. The trio glance at the photograph with mixed expressions of curiosity and distaste.

‘He’s not _too_ bad looking,’ Hinata offers.

Sakura huffs, ‘don’t encourage her. Please.’

Hinata smile is gentle, ‘I just think it wouldn’t be too bad if you... had some fun.’

‘See?’ Ino’s arm is wrapped around Hinata’s shoulders once more, ‘Hinata gets it.’

‘Okay, I’m not listening anymore,’ Sakura stands from her desk, shutting the folder with a slam of her hand. She then ushers her friends to the door, ignoring Ino’s exaggerated protests. She gently pushes them out of her office, pausing to grab her doctors coat from the stand by the door. ‘I’m _not_ sleeping with him and I don’t need to have _fun_ \- don’t give me that look, Hinata, you’re just as bad as-’

‘Ladies,’ the trio look to the left to see their senior practitioner standing with and hand on her hip, foot tapping against the linoleum flooring. ‘We must not be busy enough if you have time to be chit-chatting in _my_ clinic.’

Ino’s lips purse. It is no secret that both her and Tsunade have a love-hate relationship, their constant bickering often subject to many jokes shared between the staff. Tsunade’s temper, matched with Ino’s childish stubbornness is no fight that any of them particularly enjoy witnessing, especially after the time Tsunade swung for Ino’s head when cleaner-boy-turned-prankster Kiba had convinced the blonde to jokingly lace her alcohol with laxatives at a after-work party. Luckily, she hadn’t consumed the liquid, but she had been angry enough to leave a mark on Ino’s cheek for a week afterwards.

Sakura, on the other hand, as well as sweet, kind Hinata, much prefers to remain on Tsunade’s good side. The woman does sign off her pay-checks, after all.

‘Actually, Tsunade,’ she starts, faltering when narrowed amber eyes glide over to her, unimpressed by her attire. Heeding the unspoken warning, Sakura quickly swings her doctors coat over her shoulders, shoving her arms through the respective holes. She uses her hands to straighten down the fabric, standing upright to appear more presentable. ‘Could I have a word?’

Tsunade eyes her, fair eyebrow quirking upwards.

‘Please,’ Sakura urges.

Tsunade glances at the other two women, who stand behind Sakura. The pinkette can’t see their expressions, but she can already picture the annoyance on Ino’s face. ‘Do you not have work to do, Yamanaka?’ Tsunade barks, Hinata already shuffling away before the blonde’s anger can be aimed at her. Smart woman.

Sakura hears Ino click her tongue, but she doesn’t argue back, the clicking of her heels being the last thing Sakura hears until they fade altogether. Tsunade looks at Sakura once more before turning away, leading the younger woman to her office. Sakura closes the door shut behind her, hands joined together at her front. She watches attentively as Tsunade takes a seat behind her desk, the woodwork cluttered with paperwork. Tsunade points a manicured fingertip at the chair opposite, and without question, Sakura follows the instruction. Lowered into the comfortable seat, she waits for the older woman’s attention to focus on her, watching as the woman searches the pockets of her own lab coat. When she can’t find what she’s looking for, she grumbles under her breath, quickly giving up.

Sitting back in her chair, Tsunade’s gaze fixates onto the pink-haired woman before her.

‘Now, Haruno,’ she drawls, teeth bared as she smiles. ‘What can I do for my favourite student?’

๑

It is dark when Sakura arrives home, soaked through from the rain and exhausted.

She’s not sure of the time, but suspects it’s well past midnight. She kicks her shoes off at the door, barely remembering to shove the key through the lock. Dumping her purse on the kitchen table, she shrugs her coat off, shoving it into the washing machine, along with her stockings. A trail of water follows her to the bathroom, and she grimaces as she takes in her sodden reflection, snatching a clean towel from the radiator. However, she doesn’t get the chance to dry her hair, as a loud knocking halts her movements.

She debates ignoring whoever is at the door. But when they knock again, the loud thumping now desperate and repetitive.

‘Alright, alright!’

She unlocks the front door, yanking it open, ready to reprimand the visitor for making such a racket. But as she pulls opens the door - only for a heavy weight to slump against her, enticing a winded _oof!_ from her lips - the words die on the tip of her tongue.

‘What the-?’

Staggering under the extra weight, Sakura struggles to remain upright. Recognising the flash of silver hair that tickles her face, she heaves the man up into a standing position.

‘Kakashi, what on earth are you-?’

He grasps at her arms, using her shoulder to balance himself as he hauls his body to lean against the doorframe with a strained wheeze. His face is a deathly pale colour and beads of sweat collect upon his forehead, threatening to trickle down the curve of his cheek. Heavily lidded eyes focus on her and his voice rasps as he says, ‘I need your help.’

Sakura sees it then. Sees how he’s clutching his ribs, his spare hand shaking as he presses against the doorframe. Green eyes widen at the sight of the blood that soaks through the fabric of his light-coloured t-shirt. It trickles down his hands and Sakura immediately steps forward, her hand clasping the towel over his to add pressure.

‘W-What happened?’

‘You’re... a doctor... aren’t you?’ His words come out in pants, his eyes squeezing shut.

Sakura stares at him, ‘how do you-?’

‘Help me,’ Kakashi hisses, gaze smouldering as he grunts in pain when she presses harder. ‘Please,’ he adds, the word forced out between gritted teeth.

Pausing to kick the door shut, Sakura slowly guides him into her small apartment, carefully allowing his weight to lean against her as she leads him into her bedroom, lowering him to the mattress as gently as she can. He strains out a groan of pain, eyes screwing shut. Sakura easily forgets her previous annoyance towards him, sympathetic as she gently nudges his hand out of the way to peel his shirt back.

The wound is fresh, deep enough that blood is still sleeping out, but not so deep that she can see fat. It’s a relief and she lets the emotion sag her shoulders, a breath escaping her. She presses the towel against his skin, pressing hard.

‘Keep pressure on it,’ she orders. Kakashi does as she says without arguing, his hand clamping down on the fabric. It has already begun to stain with his blood and the sight concerns Sakura as she rushes to grab a first-aid kit from the kitchen. Back in the bedroom, she kneels beside him on the bed, pausing as she looks over him. He appears to have formed a fever in the short time he’s been inside her apartment, so she moves to open a window, allowing the cool air to flow into the room, chilled by the rain outside.

She hopes it’s enough to cool him as she suppresses a shudder, her hand moving his aside to check his wound once more. It’s a few inches long, the cut clean. She _can_ sew him up - she’s more than skilled enough to do so - but she’d much rather him be checked out at a hospital. She voices this opinion to him, only to be shut down almost straight away.

‘No,’ he manages to gasp out against the pain. ‘No hospital.’

‘But-’

‘I said,’ he hisses, head raising from the mattress to glare at her, ‘no fucking hospital.’

Sakura bites back a retort. It’s no use arguing with him, especially when he’s bleeding out onto her _brand new_ bedsheets. ‘Fine,’ she agrees, tone brash and eyes hard. ‘I need to take your shirt off.’

He eyes her dubiously, as if she means him harm.

‘It’ll give me more space to work,’ she informs him. ‘Plus, it’ll be much cleaner without any bloodstained material - it’ll only increases the risk of-’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ he grunts, making a move to sit upright, his abdominal muscles tensing. Only to collapse straight back down, quickly followed by a pained wheeze. ‘I-I can’t...’ he suddenly forms a fist, slamming it down on the mattress behind him with a frustrated curse, ‘fuck!’ 

Sakura’s hand closes around his, reassuring. ‘It’s fine,’ she tries to calm him, slightly panicked by his small outburst. She doesn’t think he’ll hurt her - or at least, she _hopes_ \- but the clenching of his fist and the welling of his darkening orbs makes her stomach tighten with nerves. Lest she let it show, though, her expression forcibly neutral, ‘don’t move. I’ll just use scissors.’

He makes a noise of disapproval but doesn’t move, so she opens up the first-aid box, throwing the lid open so harshly that it almost snaps off. Grabbing the scissors, she makes quick work of slicing through his t-shirt, Kakashi’s brows pulling together at the sound of the fabric tearing until Sakura pulls it out from under his back, throwing it to the ground. He grunts as she accidentally jostles him, but she pays no mind, already reaching for the anti-septic wipes.

‘This is going to sting,’ is her only warning.

‘Just hurry the fuck up,’ he hisses, only to growl in pain as she presses the first wipe against the wound. His hips jerk upwards, head falling back against the bed.

‘Hold still,’ Sakura snaps, elbow digging into his hip to keep him still. He mumbles something under his breath but she isn't listening, cleaning his wound with a practiced pace. As she works, she notices the other scars that litter his torso. There’s a long jagged one that traces from his right hipbone to his navel, the edges uneven. She dreads to imagine what could have caused it. There’s a few smaller scars that encircle his left collarbone, splattered down to his nipple, another large one that expands across his ribs, disappearing as it curves around to his back.

She knows that she shouldn’t be staring.

 _He’s a patient,_ she reminds herself as she makes sure his wound is cleansed thoroughly. But that doesn’t stop her from admiring him. Because despite the scars tainting his pale skin, despite that damned mask covering his face, despite his blood staining her hands as she works, congealing in a way that makes her nose crinkle, she can’t help but agree with Ino.

He is definitely a sight to admire.

After cleaning the wound and ensuring that the blood-flow has stemmed, she proceeds to select a sterile needle, ripping open the packaging with her teeth. Squinting with one eye closed, she pushes the thread through the loop, shuffling closer on her knees.

‘Okay,’ she breathes out, steadying herself. ‘I’m going to stitch you up now.’

When she receives no reply, she looks up, only to see that the pain has rendered him unconscious. It’s probably for the best, she thinks, pushing the needle through his skin and forming the first stitch. With practiced hands, the stitching is neat, formed in short timing. Sakura makes sure to give it one last clean, bandaging it with careful precision, wiping her forehead free of the sweat that’s begun to form with her concentration. Careful not to wake him, she packs away the first-aid kit, moving from the bed to discard the used wipes and the bloodied needle.

In the bathroom, she washes her hands thoroughly, drying them before returning to the bedroom to carefully remove the stained towel from his curled fist. She discards his ruined t-shirt into the bin, setting the washing machine to cycle after shoving the towel in to join her coat.

After, she closes the bedroom window, switches the light off and collapses into the chair by her vanity table. Tiredly, she eyes his sleeping form, his skin illuminated by the dim light emitted from the lamp in the living room. A thin sheet of sweat coats his forehead, silver hair now appearing grey as it is dampened. But his chest rises and falls evenly and Sakura knows that he’s out of danger, despite the pool of blood that has dried on her bedsheets. She’d have to wash them when he wakes.

For now, she relaxes back into her seat, her exhaustion catching up to her now that her adrenaline has run low. It takes seconds for her eyes to droop closed.

๑

It feels as if just minutes have passed when her eyes snap open at the sound of someone swearing loudly.

Bleary eyed, she jolts upright, double taking as she remembers that she’s not alone. Kakashi is now sat up, and much to her surprise, his mask has been pushed down to his neck, his entire face on display. However, she doesn’t get the chance to admire the little beauty mark on his chin, or the sharp angle of his jaw as he turns his head towards her.

Because there’s now another person in the room.

Dark haired, with eyes even darker than Kakashi’s, Uchiha Obito looms over his friend. He’s tall, maybe even taller than the silver haired man hunched over on her bed, his body equally as fit, biceps bulging as he hooks an arm under Kakashi’s armpit, yanking him to his feet as if he weighs nothing.

Sakura is on her feet in seconds, hands reaching to push the silver-haired man back down. But Obito easily overpowers her, shoving her back, dark eyes glowering as he gives her a once-over, jaw ticking.

‘Move it, lady.’

Sakura, as short as she is, stands in his way, defiant, arms crossed over her chest. ‘He’s in no fit state to move.’

Obito barks out a laugh, easily balancing Kakashi on one arm as he jabs his free index finger in Sakura’s face. ‘Trust me, he’s had worse.’ He waves his hand, indicating that she move, ‘now be a doll and move over, I need to get him outta here.’

Sakura stares up at him, eyes glancing over the marred skin on the right side of his face. The sight makes him all the more intimidating, his frame towering over hers as he takes a threatening step closer.

‘Listen, lady,’ he seethes. ‘Soon, this place’ll be swarming and I need’ta get him outta here before they get here. He can’t fight like this.’ Kakashi makes a noise, appearing on the brink of unconsciousness once more, head lolling against Obito’s shoulder. Sakura isn’t even sure how Obito got into her apartment in the first place, but she doesn’t need to question the mild panic that he allows to pass over his features, clearly concerned for his friend. He doesn’t wait for her reply, pushing past her as he hauls Kakashi from the bedroom.

Sakura stumbles after them, protesting.

‘You could re-open his wound!’

Obito uses his spare hand to pull the front door open, ‘like I said, he’s had worse.’ He makes a move to lead his friend out of the apartment, but Sakura halts him with a hand on his clothed shoulder.

‘W-Wait!’ Much to her relief, he does, watching as she disappears into the kitchen, fumbling around in one of the cupboards. She returns on rushed feet, pressing a bottle of pain-killers into the palm of his hand. ‘At least make sure he takes these. They’ll help him,’ she pleads. Obito eyes her, expressionless eyes critical as he regards her silently. She’s not sure what he’s looking for, but he seems to approve, nodding once as he shoves the pills into the back pocket of his jeans.

Just as Obito gets him over the threshold, Kakashi manages to lift his head, eyes barely open as he looks at Sakura.

‘I owe you,’ he’s barely able to exhale, features twisting in pain as he clutches at his bandaged side. And then before Sakura can reply, they’re gone, disappearing out of her sight as the door to the apartment block closes, announcing their departure.

For a long time after, she stands in the doorway, waiting. Waiting for what, she does not know.

Eventually, she locks the door before returning to her bedroom. The apartment is now eerily quiet as she listens to police sirens in the distance. Slumping back into her chair, she rests her elbows on her thighs, pressing her face into the palms of her hands. She inhales, breath shaking as she waits until the sirens have faded into silence. Sitting up straight a moment later, she rubs at her eyes, running her fingers through her damp hair.

The entire encounter feels like a damned dream, but the blood-stained bedsheets are the only evidence of Kakashi’s lingering presence.

With a chest-heaving sigh, she suspects that this won’t be the last she sees of his scars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed!!  
> \- please show support by leaving a kudos or even a comment; i'd love to hear what you think.  
> 


	2. に

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i do not own any of Naruto.  
> \- there's smut towards the end of the chapter, just to warn you guys.  
> \- thank you so much for 50 kudos; i honestly didn't think this story would get so many. it really means a lot :')

Sakura doesn’t see nor hear any sign of Kakashi for over three weeks.

She tries not to think about him - especially when she’d thrown out her ruined bedsheets with gritted teeth - but the medicinal instinctive inside her is unable to stop herself from wondering how well his injuries are healing. _He’s just a stranger,_ she reminds herself, but that doesn’t stop her from glancing at his apartment door when she leaves for work every morning.

New neighbour Naruto had invited her out for drinks, several times, enthusiastic as he insists on them getting to know each other better. _Neighbours should be friends too,_ he’d said. Or something along those lines; Sakura hadn’t really been listening. Because at that exact moment, she could have sworn she’d seen a flash of silver hair out on the balcony. Without warning, she’d pelted down the hallway, Naruto gawking after her with wide blue eyes as she'd pulled the door open with unnecessary force.

And much to her annoyance, the balcony had been empty. She’d peered over the railing, craning her head both left and right to see if he’d walked off down towards the gardens. She’d returned to Naruto, shoulders slumped with disappointment.

Naruto had scratched the back of his neck, sheepish at the look on Sakura’s face, ‘So, uh, drinks on Friday?’

‘Friday,’ the pinkette had replied, giving confirmation without much thought.

And so now she’s stood on her tiptoes to lean closer to her bathroom mirror, applying a clear lipgloss to match her mascara. She’s dressed in smart-causal wear, not wanting to put too much effort into an outing that she’s not really in the mood for. She feels a little guilty for her lack of enthusiasm - Naruto is sweet enough, from what’s she’s gathered, and she definitely isn’t opposed to befriending him.

But still, despite her slight exhaustion, she checks her hair and makeup one last time before shuffling out to her bedroom to slip on her heels. Ensuring that she has enough money in her purse, she places her mobile phone inside, and grabs her keys from the bowl on the kitchen counter. Exhaling, she makes her way out of her apartment, locking the door shut before she clicks her way down the hall towards Naruto’s door.

She barely manages to knock once before the door flies open to reveal a dark haired man, with equally as dark eyes that narrow slightly as he greets her.

‘Sakura, I assume,’ he stretches out a hand towards her and she accepts, forcing a smile. She has no idea who this man is, and he seems to have read her thoughts as he says, ‘I’m Sasuke.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Sakura greets, shifting on the spot, awkward. He’s still staring at her with a look of distrust, but she’s soon freed from his scrutiny as Naruto suddenly appears, beaming brightly.

‘Sakura!’

Her lips part to greet him, only to clam up as soon as the blonde bounds forward, wrapping his arms around her in a surprisingly tight hug. Bewildered, she catches Sasuke’s gaze as he watches with a bored expression, ‘he’s had a few already,’ is all he says to explain.

‘Oh,’ Sakura exhales, returning Naruto’s hug with less vigour, before he pulls from the embrace.

‘I didn’t think you were going to come,’ he pouts. Then he points at Sasuke, his grin widening, ‘have you met Sasuke yet? He’s my boyfriend.’

Sasuke’s cheeks appear to redden at this statement and Sakura’s mouth tilts into a soft smile, ‘I have met him, yes.’

‘Idiot,’ Sasuke grumbles, shoving a hand against the small of Naruto’s back, pushing. ‘Let’s go, else we’ll be late.’

Naruto takes off first, dragging Sakura behind him. They pass by number 34, and she’s unable to stop her eyes from glancing at the numbers nailed to the door as Naruto pulls her towards the exit. Sasuke is close behind, having locked Naruto’s apartment, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie as he walks at a much more leisurely pace compared to his boyfriend.

When they reach the bar down the road, they are seated at a booth towards the back, and Sakura is grateful when they receive their order in record timing. She takes small sips of her cocktail, green eyes wide as she takes in the tropical themed bar, Soca music playing softly in the background. She’s still new to the area, so she’s never been inside this bar before, but quickly decides that she likes it, despite the crowd of people that seems to grow larger with every passing minute.

‘So,’ Naruto leans a little closer to Sakura, so close that she can just smell the faint scent of alcohol on his breath, ‘how are things at your clinic?’

She’d almost forgotten that she’d told him about her line of work. Allowing her purse to slip from her shoulder, onto the seat beside her, she relaxes into the back of her chair. ‘It’s been a long week,’ she tries to smile, hoping that her exhaustion doesn’t show. ‘A very long week.’

‘Betcha glad to get a drink down ya,’ Naruto grins toothily. He’s already finished his first beer, awaiting his second.

Sakura manages a small laugh, ‘it’s very much needed.’ She notices that Sasuke has barely touched his drink, not really paying attention to their conversation as he stares off to the side, eyes glazed over. Her attention back on Naruto, Sakura takes another sip of her drink, ‘what about you? How’s work going?’

Naruto waves a hand dismissively, ‘I’m still on teacher training. I don’t see why they won’t just hire me - the kids love me already and I’m _amazing_ at sports.’

Sakura wasn’t at all surprised when the blonde had told her that he was training to be a P.E teacher at the local primary school, during a conversation they’d had when he’d politely offered to help her move her boxes into her apartment. It’s just the type of job that suits him, she thinks, and she doesn’t doubt that the kids like him - _she’s_ already warming up to him.

‘They have regulations,’ Sasuke reminds his boyfriend, suddenly joining the conversation. ‘They can’t just ignore them just because you happen to be good at your job. You’re still learning.’

‘Well I’m _way_ better than the guy they actually have,’ Naruto protests. ‘He’s, like, seventy and can’t kick a ball at all. What the hell does he know about football?’ Sakura hides her smile as Sasuke mumbles a comment that doesn’t reach her ears. But Naruto seems to hear, a devilish grin playing the corner of his mouth. ‘That’s not what you were saying last-’

Sasuke manages to silence him by aiming a particularly hard jab to the blonde’s ribcage. Naruto just explodes with a loud bark of laughter, only silencing when their waiter pauses by their table to hand them the next round of drinks. Sakura hasn’t even finished her first, quickly downing the rest to catch up with the couple.

For the next few hours, the trio consume a lot more alcohol than Sakura had initially planned.

By the time the clock on her phone reads past one am, she’s a little more than tipsy. Her cheeks are almost as pink as her hair, which has been tugged free of the ponytail she’d tied it in, now spilling just past her shoulders. She leans heavily on one hand as she wills herself to stay awake as she watches Naruto and Sasuke play a game of cards. From where they got the stack from, Sakura doesn’t know, too out of it to bring herself to care.

However, halfway through their third game, Sakura senses someone watching her. The bar is now rammed with people, some dancing, some just nursing drinks in large groups. The volume of the music is now louder, and she even struggles to hear her companions as they bicker over their game.

‘You’re cheatin’!’ Naruto slurs heavily, but Sakura isn’t paying attention.

Her eyes glance around the bar as thoroughly as she can manage whilst this drunk, her stomach slightly bloated. After a few minutes, she almost gives up when her gaze lands on a familiar face.

Obito stares right back at her from his seat at the bar, the stool beside him, empty.

And much to her surprise, it takes all of two seconds for his head to tilt, inviting her over. A part of her hesitates, still utterly confused about the day she met him. However, she’s drunk, and so, _so_ curious, and so she throws all rationality out of the window and stands from her seat.

‘Where you goin’?’ Naruto calls to her from over the music.

‘I just saw a… friend,’ Sakura says quickly. ‘I’ll be back in a minute - save my seat!’

Naruto nods, looking a little hesitant to let her go. But then Sasuke is distracting him with a touch to his cheek and his gaze is shifting, softening as he looks at the raven-haired man. Sakura grins, deciding to take her purse with her as she weaves through the crowd until she reaches Obito.

He’s still staring at her, she realises, reluctantly perching upon the stool when he points at it. He seems to be drinking alone, one hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey. He leans a little closer so that she can hear him speak over the music that appears to be louder by the bar, ‘what d'you want to drink?’

Sakura shifts in her seat, wary. She doesn’t know this man - nor his friend, whom she’d saved from a stabbing just weeks ago - yet his presence beside her is oddly comforting. Maybe it’s the alcohol she’s consumed, or maybe it’s the briefest of smiles he welcomes her to see, but without meaning to, she relaxes beside him.

‘A woo-woo,’ she blushes at the girlish choice of drink, Obito looking at her with an expression of boredom. 

‘I’m not even surprised,’ he comments, before flagging down the bartender and placing her order. As they wait, Sakura fishes into her purse for some money, holding it out to Obito who immediately rejects it. ‘This one’s on me,’ he insists when she begins to protest, his hand reaching to push the money back into the palm of her hand. Dejectedly, she realises he’s not going to give in, and so she drops the money back into her purse, zipping it shut. The bartender returns with her drink and Obito pays him with a paper-note that values a lot more than her drink costs. ‘Keep the change,’ he orders, and the bartender nods once before disappearing to tend to another customer.

Sakura takes a long sip of her drink, welcoming the familiar rush of alcohol. When she looks up, Obito is downing the rest of his drink, seemingly much more sober than she is. Swallowing her mouthful, Sakura sits up straight in her seat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She feels the buzz of the alcohol, eyes blinking rapidly to keep her awake.

‘I wasn’t aware you were friends with my cousin,’ she just manages to hear Obito, his form towering as he leans closer so she can hear him speak. Eyes darting over to the couple - who are still engaged in their increasingly heated game of solitaire - Sakura’s head tilts. She now sees the similarities between Obito and Sasuke, and wonders how she didn’t realise before the older man had said anything.

A shoulder raises, ‘Naruto is my neighbour. He invited me out for drinks.’ She winces as her words slur a little, but it doesn’t stop her from consuming more of her beverage. Obito orders another whiskey, and Sakura is surprised to see that the bartender doesn’t charge him. They must be more than acquaintances, she concludes, despite the fact that Obito doesn’t come across as a man with many friends. They drink together in silence, and it isn’t until the clock reaches two am that Obito offers to walk her home. Stumbling from her stool, Sakura declines, ‘i-it’s okay. I’ll walk with-’

Except when she turns around to flag down Naruto, to her drunken horror, he’s nowhere in sight. And neither is Sasuke.

Obito’s hand comes down to touch her shoulder, holding her to his side to prevent her from falling over. ‘I sent them home.’

Sakura cranes her neck to squint up at him. She hadn’t even seen him talking to neither his cousin or his boyfriend. _Is she really that drunk?_

Curling an arm around her shoulder, Obito doesn’t let her protest any further, already steering her towards the door. She allows him to walk her home, the brisk cold slightly sobering her. She shivers next to him, neither speaking during the short walk home. And when they reach her front door, she turns to him, quietly slurring a thanks.

Obito leans against the door, watching her attempt to push her key into the lock. It takes several tries and he doesn’t bother to hide his amusement as he watches her push open the door. But before she steps inside, she loiters, pupils dilated as they focus on his face once more.

‘How is he?’

Obito regards her with an expression that she can no longer read.

Sakura swallows as the seconds tick by, deciding that he’s not going to answer as she stumbles over the threshold.

‘He’s better,’ he eventually says, dark eyes watching her as she kicks off her heels, exhaling a sigh of relief as the pads of her feet touch the carpeted flooring. ‘I told you, he’s had worse,’ he pushes his weight from the wall, ready to leave.

Sakura plays with the blossom shaped keyring that Hinata had gifted her after a trip to Japan a few years ago.

‘Make sure he takes the tablets I gave you,’ she mumbles, brows pinching together at the headache beginning to form. She presses an index finger to her lips, bile rising to the back of her throat.

Obito stares at her, appearing hesitant to leave her alone, ‘you good?’

Sakura waves a hand, dismissing his concern, ‘I’ve felt worse.’ When Obito still doesn’t move, Sakura forces a smile, slurring a promise.

‘Hn,’ he hums, eyes narrowing as if he doesn’t believe her. But she’s already beginning to close the door on him, barely managing to remember to thank him once again for walking her home. The last she sees of his face is an expression of annoyance. What he’s annoyed at, she doesn’t concern herself with, already rushing to the kitchen to pour herself a large glass of water.

She’s sat on the settee, downing her third glass, when a knock at her door makes her jump. She almost spills the remainder of her drink as she slams the glass down onto the coffee table, forcing herself to her feet. An index finger pressed between her eyes, she massages her headache away, shuffling her way over to the front door.

Slightly sobered by the consumption of water, she’s able to unlock the door with ease this time, swinging it open. Only to be taken aback by the person she sees waiting for her.

Kakashi leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he peers down at her. Sakura stares right back, unsure of how to greet him. Obito had been right; Kakashi looks much better than when she’d last seen him. His face is hidden behind his mask again, but in her drunken state, she can’t bring herself to remember what he looks like without it. His eyes scan her body, taking in her lack of attire, and Sakura vaguely remembers managing to pull her jeans off her body not long after Obito had left.

Clad in just an oversized jumper, she squirms under his stare, legs pressing together as her arms cross over her chest.

‘Obito said you were drunk,’ Kakashi breaks the silence, drawling. The low sound of his voice travels through her ears and settles right into the pit of her stomach. She grimaces, avoiding his gaze.

At least she’s now learned the name of his friend, chiding herself for not having asked the dark haired man sooner. She licks at her dry lips, toes buried into the carpet. Kakashi’s eyes flicker to her mouth but she doesn’t notice, her eyes trained in on his abdomen, where his t-shirt hides the injury she’d stitched just a few weeks ago.

‘Can I check it?’

He doesn’t have to ask her what she means, already standing up straight to follow her inside. Sakura stumbles backwards, his hand shooting out to grab her arm, steadying her. She feels the heat of his hand, her cheeks warming to match. She pulls from his hand, standing to the side to allow him to pass. He easily glides past her, already disappearing down the small hallway, toward her bedroom. She’s left to lock the door, where she leans against it as she gathers her resolve.

She enters the kitchen to drop the keys into the bowl on the counter, before she halts.

_What is she doing?_

_He’s a stranger._

She hesitates, fingers curling around the ends of the sleeves of her jumper. She blinks in the direction of the bedroom, debating whether she kick him out and demand that he goes to be checked at the hospital. But she’s no fool. Even in her drunken state, she’s aware that the stab wound was no accident. Someone had deliberately hurt him and he’d been adamant on no hospitals when she’d suggested it the first time. It’s hard to not jump to conclusions, but she already suspects that his lifestyle isn’t entirely on the legal side. Especially if his scars are anything to go by.

No, she decides. It has to be her who treats him.

And so she forces herself to grab the first aid kit, swallowing down her nerves as she shuffles her way into the bedroom. To her surprise, Kakashi is already sat the end of the bed, his shirt removed. She tries not to stare as she moves to switch the bedroom lamp on, shifting to kneel before him.

His eyes are on her, but she purposely doesn’t meet his gaze, her hands shaking slightly as she reaches for the makeshift bandage that either he or Obito has created. She gently peels it back from his skin, pleased to see that her stitches are still in place, the wound scabbing nicely. With her thumb, she gently presses around the wound, pausing when his abs constrict, wincing.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbles, turning her attention to the first aid kit. She takes her time with opening it, using the anti-septic wipes to clean his wound before applying a fresh bandage, much neater than his own. ‘It’s healing perfectly,’ she tells him, her voice quiet.

He inhales sharply as she presses against a particularly sore spot, making sure the bandage is fixed in place. ‘Great,’ he grits out.

‘If you’d like,’ Sakura starts, clearing her throat as her words slur once again. ‘I can check it again next week… the stitches should have fallen out by then, but just in case…?’ She hands him his shirt, which he’d placed beside him, silently willing the nerves in her stomach to calm.

‘Okay,’ is all he replies with, taking his shirt from her hands. But he doesn’t make a move to put it back on, watching her pack the first aid kit away before discarding of the used wipes into the bin.

‘Okay?’ She repeats, bleary eyed as she looks at him. She hadn’t expected him to actually agree.

The corner of his eyes crinkle and she suspects that he’s smiling under his mask. Her cheeks are warm once more and she turns away, exiting the bedroom to place the kit back in the kitchen, before she returns to see that he’s still not put his t-shirt back on.

‘Uh-?’

‘So,’ he interrupts her, sitting up straight. He’s watching her again and she doesn’t know how to avoid his gaze this time. She settles for looking at where she guesses his nose is hidden, standing still in the doorway. Kakashi’s eyes squint again, but she can’t tell if it’s because he’s smiling again. ‘I still owe you.’

Sakura frowns at his words, ‘I didn’t stitch you up… just so you could _owe_ me.’ She feels her headache worsening, her index finger massaging her left temple once more. ‘I did it because I wanted to.’

It is Kakashi’s brows that form a frown this time.

‘I don’t like owing people,’ he insists. He shifts on the bed, as if ready to stand. ‘What’s your price?’

Sakura’s eyes flicker a little lower, now peering at his clothed lips. She blinks, cheeks hot, ‘nothing.’

‘People don’t do anything - especially not _saving_ someone’s life - for free,’ Kakashi’s eyes are narrowed now. ‘Tell me what you want in return.’

She’s annoyed now, her fists clenching at her sides. She suddenly feels a lot more sober, ‘I’m a doctor, which you already know - how _do_ you know that, by the way? - saving lives is what I do.’

He dodges the question, voice hard as he demands, ‘tell me what you want.’

Her gaze are on his lips once more, before they shift upwards, focusing on his eyes. And much to her surprise, they’ve darkened, his gaze heated. Or so she thinks, maybe the alcohol is warping her ability to read expressions?

But apparently not because now he’s standing from the bed, crossing over to her in two large strides. They’re stood so close together and it takes several moments for Sakura’s eyes to meet his, her pupils dilated due to her intoxication.

‘Tell me what you want,’ he repeats, his voice grating down her eardrums. His breath fans across her cheek, hot and forming butterflies in her stomach.

And then before she can even process what she’s doing, her hands are reaching up, the tips of her fingers brushing against his skin as they curl around the edge of his mask. She hesitates, her hands still, eyes slightly widened at her actions. But before she can begin to regret what she’s done, his hands come to hold hers, warm and calloused against the backs of her hands. Unblinking, his eyes bore into hers as he slowly guides her hands down his face, the fabric following until it hangs loosely around his neck.

Up close, she traces her thumb over his bottom lip, ignoring the pulse of her heart when the corner of his mouth tilts up into a lazy smirk. Her fingertips trace the annoyingly perfect ridge of his nose, brushing over his cheekbones until she presses against the beauty mark on his chin.

Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just because he’s absolutely beautiful, but her gaze is filled with awe as she welcomes the feeling of his hand curling in her hair. He gently pulls, tugging her head back, his own lowering until their lips are just centimetres apart. He looks at her, licking his bottom lip at the sight of her flushed cheeks, her tousled hair wrapped around his fingers, her eyes heavily lidded - with intoxication or lust, he cannot tell.

‘Name your price,’ he murmurs, breath ghosting over her lips. He feels her shudder against him and he shifts closer, trapping her against the wall.

Then her hands are moving from his face, his eyes closing briefly at the sensation of her skin touching his. She curls her arms around the back of his neck, fingernails scraping against his scalp as she pulls him closer.

‘Kiss me,’ she whispers, eyes sliding shut.

He immediately complies, his mouth colliding with hers, hot and wet and feverous. She loses count of the amount of times his tongue caresses hers, her toes curling into the carpet as she grips his hair, desperately kissing him with equally as much ardour.

She knows that she’ll probably regret this in the morning, but all second thoughts are thrown out of the window as his hands are suddenly gripping her thighs, hoisting her up until her legs wrap around his waist. Pinning her to the wall, his fingers release her hair to sneak under her jumper, a groan rumbling from the back of his throat. One hand holds her with an impressive strength, his other hand skimming against her stomach. He traces the slight curve of her under-boob and she breaks the kiss with a gasp for breath.

She doesn’t even recall removing her bra, but she doesn’t care, keening under his touch as his thumb brushes against her nipple, his lips sucking at her neck. She knows it’ll bruise, but she only encourages him, tilting her head back to allow him more access. He rolls her nipple between his thumb and index finger, tongue expertly tracing circles down to the base of her throat, his hair tickling her nose. She stifles a giggle, which quickly morphs into a breathy moan as his hips jut against hers, teasing.

‘You got a condom?’ He asks, lips brushing against her cheek.

Dismayed, Sakura shakes her head. He pulls back a little, his fingers giving her breast a gentle squeeze. Sakura leans her head back against the wall to look at him, her lips curling into a soft smile at the sight of his own disappointment. ‘I’m on the pill, though.’

He regards her through heavily lidded eyes, pupils dilated as they rake over her face for any sign of deceit. When he finds none, he’s nodding, breathing heavily through his nose, and his lips are pressing against hers once more. His hips grind, enticing a high-pitched mewl, which he swallows, his tongue tracing her own, bare chest pressed against hers.

And then he’s fumbling with the zipper on his jeans, shoving them down far enough that she can now feel his erection, hot against her bare thigh. Her stomach coils with excitement, her breath coming out in pants as he gently tugs her underwear to the side. She tenses at the first touch, his index and middle fingers slipping between her folds, delving inside her. She tightens her legs around his waist, vaguely aware enough to not bump against his bandage. He’s watching her, she realises, her eyes squeezing shut as he buries his fingers, all the way to the second knuckle, gently twisting.

She cries out against his mouth, his teeth biting her bottom lip, her fingers digging into his biceps.

It is not long until his fingers are withdrawing, her hips chasing after them, a whinge of protest spilling past her lips before she can stop it. He chuckles breathily, ‘patience.’ But she doesn’t have to be patient for long. He guides his cock inside her in one long thrust, his eyes screwing shut as he hilts. She feels the tickle of his public hair brushing against her clit, and she rolls her hip, seeking friction. ‘F-Fuck,’ Kakashi grunts, sweat trickling down his jaw as he inhales a stuttered breath. He withdraws slowly, before his hips cant forwards, harder, faster.

He sets a brutal pace, his grip bruising as he fucks into her over and over and over. Sakura moans, fingers scrambling to find leverage against his shoulders. Her head is pressed back against the wall as he crushes their lips together in a sloppy kiss, tongue rapidly seeking hers. They’re a tangle of limbs, the room beginning to fill with the scent of their alcohol-infused act, his name slurred past her lips repeatedly. This only seems to spear him on, the slick sound of their connection echoing as his hips roughly collide with hers.

Then he stills, pushing in to grind against her in such a way that encourages the snapping of the coil in her stomach. Nails digging into his bare shoulders, she cries out her orgasm, her toes curling behind his back. He pistons into her, groaning as she tightens around him, her slick coating his cock. The sensation is addictive and it’s almost with regret when he can feel his peak nearing. And then without warning, he shifts her higher up on his hips, his arm encircling her waist as his pace becomes rougher with his need to come undone.

Sensitive, Sakura whimpers into his neck, sucking at the skin as he drives into her, the new angle coaxing a sharp cry against his collarbone. He grunts in reply, evidence of his own bliss spilling past his lips as he chases his own orgasm. It doesn’t take much longer, his hips slick with sweat as he comes undone, spilling his seed into her. He groans his release, his grip tightening around her as he screws into her until he has nothing left to give.

Spent, his head lowers to her shoulder, panting as his fingers rake through her sweaty hair. They remain still, embracing until their breathing evens out. It is Sakura who moves first, legs lowering from his waist, shaking slightly as she stands. He seems reluctant as he withdraws from her, the two fixing their clothing back in place in silence.

A short while later, his gaze lingers on her when she guides him to the front door. She knows that he was never going to stay, but she still can’t help her disappointment at the sight of him walking out of the door. But to her surprise, he leans closer to press a chaste kiss to her lips before he’s pulling up his mask, concealing his face before he steps back. And then he’s sauntering down the hall towards the exit, not looking back. Sakura closes the door, legs quivering as she slowly makes her way to her bed.

She awakes the next morning, regretful, his mark tainting her neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed!!  
> \- please show support by leaving a kudos or even a comment; i'd love to hear what you think.  
> 


	3. さん

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i do not own any of Naruto.  
> \- trigger warning; mentions of blood and minor violence.  
> \- oh wow, thank you all so much for 100 kudos ;-; i really hope you're enjoying the story so far.

‘So let me get this straight,’ Tsunade drawls the following Monday morning, amber eyes narrowed at the pink-haired woman before her. Sakura can’t help but shift nervously in her seat opposite the doctor she’s looked up to since her teen years, the blonde’s glare boring right through her. Tsunade leans back in her chair, fingers linking together as her hands come to rest just underneath her bosom. ‘You are putting in a request to exchange patients with Yamanaka, because…’ Tsunade feigns a pensive expression, ‘because due to a moment of uncharacteristic unprofessionalism, you decided to get drunk and _canoodle_ with said patient… is this correct?’

Sakura’s head bows, humiliation enflaming her cheeks, ‘yes, Tsunade-sama.’

Tsunade exhales a loud and heavy sigh to express her disappointment, and Sakura’s head lowers even further.

‘I’m surprised, Haruno. I didn’t think you had it in you.’

At this, Sakura lifts her head to meet her superior’s hardened gaze, her lips parting with surprise. ‘What do you-?’

‘When you asked me to hand over…’ Tsunade flicks through the file on her desk, repeating Kakashi’s surname with a crinkle of her nose, ‘Hatake to Yamanaka’s care last week, I didn’t think it was so you could-’

‘That’s not it at all!’ Sakura is quick to defend herself, her blush darkening. ‘I asked last week because I didn’t think it was professional for me to take care of a patient who also happens to be my neighbour… what happened this weekend…’ her fists clench, curling into the fabric of her doctor’s coat, ‘it was… it was a mistake.’

‘Hn,’ Tsunade looks at her with an expression of disapproval. ‘Either way… I said no last week because out of the two of you, I still believe that you have a talent that none of my previous students have ever been blessed with. Hatake is a special case.’

Sakura allows herself to feel the tiniest amount of pride at Tsunade’s words, despite her embarrassment.

‘That being said,’ Tsunade continues, voice as equally as stern as the look in her eye, ‘I now have no choice but to hand him over to Yamanaka.’ She appears to sneer at this, ‘honestly… I would have expected this kind of behaviour from her, Haruno, not yourself.’

‘I’m really sorry,’ Sakura mumbles, expression one of shame.

Tsunade sighs again, ‘you girls…’ She doesn’t finish her sentence, and a small part of Sakura is grateful. After deliberating the entire weekend, she’d concluded that it was easier to just confess to her wrongdoings and cut off all ties with a certain silver-haired man. Including the responsibility of being his general practitioner. She’d considered just coming up with a lie, but doing so meant that she had to come up with one that was believable - believable enough to warrant Tsunade’s permission. In the end, she couldn’t come up with one, deciding that it would’ve been much easier to just tell the truth. And much to her relief, Tsunade’s reaction hadn’t been as _explosive_ as Sakura had been expecting.

However, the disappointment on her face somehow feels much worse.

‘Well,’ Tsunade stands from her chair, looking at the pinkette before her with a glint in her eye that Sakura cannot decipher. ‘I’ll go and tell Yamanaka. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled, that little-’ She shakes her head, sighing once more. ‘Anyway, back to work, Haruno. We’re going to be busy this afternoon.’

Sakura all but stumbles as she rises from her chair, bewildered, ‘that’s it?’

Tsunade, already making her way towards the door, halts, looking at her junior from over her shoulder. ‘You say something, Haruno?’

Sakura isn’t deaf to the warning in her clipped tone. Her lips pressed into a flat line, she shakes her head, following the blonde out of the door. They part ways, Sakura watching as Tsunade makes her way down the hall, towards Ino’s office. Still stumped by the lack of punishment, she dawdles as she makes her way to her own office, pausing by the door as Tsunade’s voice calls down the hallway:

‘Never again, Haruno. Do you hear me?’

Cheeks hot, Sakura’s head ducks once again, biting down on her bottom lip. She doesn’t have the chance to respond, the slamming of a door announcing the end of their conversation. Heaving a sigh of her own, she enters her office, closing the door behind her. Taking a seat at her desk, her eyes close and she thanks the stars that Tsunade’s warning had been mild in comparison to the previous ones Sakura herself has been witness to.

However, her gratitude is short-lived, as just minutes later, the door to her office flies wide open, so harshly that it almost hits the visitor straight in the face as it ricochets back from the wall. Unfazed, Ino kicks the door shut behind her, sporting a manic grin that makes Sakura’s stomach twist with dread.

‘I can’t believe you got her to give in,’ Ino exclaims, holding a file in her hand, which she proceeds to slam onto the desk, chuckling under her breath. Sakura reaches to slip it from under her palm, but Ino doesn’t relent, eyes suddenly narrowing down at her friend as she leans over the desk. ‘ _How_ did you get her to change her mind?’

Sakura avoids her friend’s gaze, shrugging, ‘I told her that he’s my neighbour - she agreed it’d be a potential conflict of interest for me to care for him.’

She knows it’s unfair to lie through her teeth, especially to someone she considers her best friend. But if she’s learned anything about Ino throughout their fifteen years of friendship, is that the woman is a gossip - and very susceptible to sharing secrets without even meaning to. Sakura doubts the blonde would ever do anything to sabotage her on purpose, but Ino’s mouth has a reputation for blabbing and Sakura would much rather her keep her bedroom antics as private as possible.

Especially when they regard _him_.

‘Anyway,’ Ino doesn’t seem to suspect a lie, waving a hand enthusiastically. ‘There’s your new patient,’ she points an index finger at the file. ‘I think he’s got an appointment this afternoon - you’ll have to check with Hinata - it’s a shame that old bat made me switch him out. Wait 'til you see him… he’s literally the embodiment of tall, dark and h-’

‘Don’t want to hear it,’ Sakura bites out, glaring.

She’s really _not_ in the mood to hear about Ino’s infatuation for yet another patient, especially those she deems worthy of bedding. Sakura is quick to shoo her out of the room, ignoring Ino’s unnecessarily loud protest - ‘ _wait, let me just tell you about the scar he has on his-!_ ’ - slamming the door shut before she can finish her sentence.

It’s with an exhausted exhale that she finally relaxes into her seat, running her fingers through her hair.

For a few moments, she reminisces her night with the silver-haired man, and allows herself to wonder where he’s been since. After scrubbing herself clean from their lascivious act together, she’d laid in bed awake for most of the night, listening out for his return. However, he’d stayed away that night, and for the two nights that then followed. For the duration of the weekend, number 34 showed no signs of his presence, yet when she’d left the house this morning, she’d been sure someone had watched her go.

It could have been her imagination, she argues with herself, disgusted that a part of her hopes that it was his eyes on her as she made her usual walk to work just an hour ago. Absentmindedly, a finger gently touches the mark she’d spent the best part of an hour meticulously covering with a layer of foundation. She forces herself to forget the feeling of his lips on hers, his hands on her skin, his c-

She groans loudly, pressing the balls of her hands to her eyes.

Suddenly, she’s more than grateful that she only had to ask twice before Tsunade had given in to her request. His absence from the apartment next door is probably a blessing, too, she thinks, sighing heavily. Standing from her chair, she ties her hair into a low ponytail, almost praying for a distraction from her dangerous trail of thinking. And as if on cue, a knock at the door announces the arrival of her first patient of the day.

Smiling with relief, Sakura invites them inside, ‘come in.’ And thus begins her day, filled with the frenzy of mild illnesses and trivial accidents that are solved with a simple cleansing and a bandage or two.

When the time nears eight o’clock at night, the sun is just starting to set.

Sakura has just dismissed another patient, slumped in her chair, stretching her aching neck with a sickening _crack!_

She eyes the clock with a heavily lidded stare, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand. There’s just half an hour until she can leave, and as much as she loves her job, she looks forward to going home. Minutes pass by as she awaits her final appointment, and as she waits, she busies herself with tidying her desk. She arranges the stacks of notes into neatened piles, straightens her pot of biros - ensures the fancy one that Hinata had bought her two christmases ago is sat in the middle - rearranges the family portrait several times before returning it to its original position.

‘I’ve never seen a more uptight person in my life,’ a voice halts her ministrations.

Her back to the door, Sakura’s eyes squeeze shut, dreading immediately flooding through her. Without even turning around, she recognises the low voice, unable to hide her frustrated huff as he chuckles at her from the other side of the room.

Reluctantly turning to face him, Sakura allows her expression to settle into a heated glare. ‘I’m not uptight.’

Obito nudges the door shut with his elbow, not bothering to obscure his knowing smirk. ‘You sure about that?’

‘What are you doing in here?’ Sakura snaps, ignoring his question. ‘Only patients are permitted to-’

Obito is still smirking, much to her annoyance, ‘I _am_ your patient. As of today, anyway, according to your pretty blonde friend.’ He glances at the door as if he can see Ino right through it. ‘Talking of, I might actually ask for her number now that she’s not my d-’

‘No,’ Sakura disapproves, arms crossing over her chest. ‘Outside of work, doctor-patient relationships are forbidden.’

Obito’s smile widens and he takes a slow step closer to her, ‘now that didn’t stop you, did it?’

A grass-green eye twitches.

Of course he’d know. The revelation makes her teeth grind and he doesn’t miss the way her fist clenches at her side.

‘It was a mistake,’ she hisses. She hopes that her blush isn’t visible, but judging from Obito’s widening grin, she knows her prayers have gone unanswered. So instead, she settles for changing the subject, ‘what can I do for you?’

Obito hums a quiet laugh at her urgency, pointing a finger at his left thigh, ‘I need my stitches lookin’ at.’

Sakura doesn’t even look at him as she indicates to the bed on the far right of the room. ‘Take off your trousers and sit.’ She pretends to not hear him mutter something under his breath, glad that she doesn’t hear his exact words, as she’s sure it’d only annoy her further.

It’s just her luck to receive him as her patient. She isn’t even sure which option is worse; the dark-haired male whom she can hear kicking off his jeans behind her, or his friend. She can’t believe her reoccurring bad fortune, but decides that she won’t allow Obito’s snide comments and knowing smirks to get to the best of her. Instead, she retrieves a first aid kit from the cupboard, as well as a pair of latex gloves, before turning to face him.

When she approaches him, she sees that his right thigh is heavily scarred, the injury seemingly years old. Unable to hide her fascination, Sakura pokes a gloved finger at the healed skin.

‘What-?’

Obito answers before she can finish her question, ‘boating accident when I was sixteen. It set on fire.’

He doesn’t appear ashamed of his scars, of the one on his thigh, nor the one on his face. Sakura commends him, positive that she wouldn’t have the same confidence if their positions had been reversed. She indicates to the scar that spans across the right side of his face, ‘is this from the same accident?’

Obito grunts, his eyes glued to her as she peers at his scars, undoubtedly captivated.

She doesn’t show a fear nor a wariness towards his appearance, much to his surprise, and he allows her to touch his face when she asks, ‘may I?’ Her fingers gently trace over his brow, down the subtle curve of his cheek, pausing just before she reaches his top lip. She stares and he stares right back, dark eyes unblinking as she suddenly pulls away from him, her hand falling to her side. ‘The skin has been grafted well,’ she compliments awkwardly. ‘I’ve never seen burn scars this nicely healed.’

Obito grunts again, providing no reply for her.

Clearing her throat, Sakura fights back the heat that urges to flare upon her cheeks. She focuses on his left thigh, checking the stitching. It’s eerie just how much his wound looks almost exactly the same as the one she’d stitched upon his friend a few weeks ago, and she sucks in a deep breath, brows furrowing.

‘Who stabbed y-?’

‘Do you dye your hair?’ He interrupts her with a question before she can finish her own, and she suspects he did so on purpose.

Shifting her glare to his eyes, she takes offence at his question, ‘no.’ His lips part, ready to question her again, but she cuts in before he can, ‘it’s a recessive gene that runs in my family.’ She jabs a finger into his left thigh, avoiding the healing wound by just centimetres. She ignores the urge to scoff when he doesn’t even flinch, ‘who stabbed you?’

Obito’s smile is forced now, ‘no one.’

This time, she does scoff, straightening up so that she’s glaring directly down at him. Arms crossing over her chest, she spits, ‘don’t lie to me.’

Obito leans back, using his hands to rest his weight on the bed. ‘Do you always treat your patients so rudely?’

Green eyes narrow, ‘do you always lie to your doctors?’

Obito laughs bitterly, ‘touché.’

Sakura’s glare doesn’t waver, which in turn, makes Obito’s grin broaden.

‘The stitches look fine,’ she says eventually. ‘They should fall out in the next week or so.’ It looks as if it’s healing well by itself, but just to be sure, she cleans the wound and applies a bandage. ‘Try not to knock it,’ she chides, although the cheeky smile he offers her way seems to be an indication that he’ll only ignore her demand. She tuts under her breath, turning to pack her things away.

Behind her, Obito tugs his jeans back up his legs and over his hips. He pulls the zipper shut, shoves his feet into his trainers, runs his fingers through his hair, all whilst keeping his eyes glued onto her back. He watches her place the first aid kit back into the cupboard, disposing of her latex gloves and the used anti-septic wipes into the bin by her desk. She then glances at the clock and gathers her belongings, draping her doctor’s coat over the stand by the door, replacing it with a thin cardigan.

Handbag slung over her shoulder, she looks at him as if she’s only just remembered that he’s still sitting there.

‘Don’t you have a home to get to?’

Obito laughs, the sound loud and brash. Sakura shoos him from the room, ensuring that the space is tidy with one last look before she locks the door shut behind them. By now, the clinic is silent except for the quiet shuffling by Hinata’s desk in the reception area.

‘Hinata?’ Sakura calls out as she rounds the corner. ‘I’m leaving now… are you okay with locking up?’

The shy ivy-haired girl spares Obito a polite smile before nodding to her friend. ‘Kiba is still here - I think he’s walking me home.’

Sakura’s shoulders sag with relief, ‘ah, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Let me know when you get home?’

Hinata spares her a whisper of a promise to do so, eyeing Obito curiously as he follows Sakura out of the building.

Sakura almost forgets that she has company until she’s just a street away from her block of apartments. Not even bothering to look over her shoulder, she calls out into the cooling air, ‘are you going to follow me all the way home?’

‘It’s dark out,’ is Obito’s only excuse, his voice suddenly lacking any form of humour. ‘Plus, I need to stop by Kakashi’s.’

At the mention of his name, Sakura flinches, her grip tightening around the handle of her handbag.

If Obito notices, he doesn’t comment. He saunters behind her, and although she’d never tell him in fear of inflating his ego, Sakura silently admits that his presence eases her anxiety about walking home in the dark. It’s nights like these when she’d usually regret not buying a car sooner, but Obito following her brings a sense of protection that comforts her for a reason she doesn’t know why. Especially when she reminds herself that he is still very much a stranger, despite him now being her patient.

Quickening her pace, she all but speed-walks the remainder of the journey home. And to her surprise, as she shoves open the apartment block door, Obito has easily caught up to her, holding the weighted door open to allow her to slip through the gap easily. She barely remembers to offer him a muted thanks as she’s unlocking her apartment door, stifling yet another yawn.

But before she can take a step inside, the door to number 34 flies open.

And there, in all of his unkempt glory, stands Hatake Kakashi.

And before she can stop it, Sakura feels her face enflame as she takes in the sight of his shirtless torso, his healing wound now free from its bandage. He seems to have recently showered, she notices, the ends of his dampened hair dripping water all over the floor. And much to Sakura’s regret, her eyes immediately zone in on the large droplet that rolls down the curve of his neck before melting against his collarbone. He stares, his face bare for all to see, much to both hers and Obito’s surprise.

‘Put some clothes on, idiot.’ Obito is pushing his way past Kakashi, parting with Sakura with a promise to see her soon. She silently hopes not. When he’s disappeared from her view, she’s surprised to see that the silver-haired man before her is yet to move.

He’s still looking at her, his expression unreadable. Sakura isn’t sure what to do so she just offers a polite - albeit strained - smile in his direction and moves towards the entrance of her apartment. But his voice stops her.

‘Why did you switch?’

Sakura cranes her head back to regard him, frowning, ‘excuse me?’

He looks annoyed now, his brows pulling together to form a frown, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed. He’s shifted so that his left hand clenches around the doorframe, supporting his weight as he leans closer. Sakura can smell the scent of whatever cocoa-flavoured body wash he’s used and she has to take a step back to stop the fluttering in her stomach. But he’s still within arm’s reach, and she watches as his glare then twists into something close to animalistic. He sneers down at her, and she peers back, bewildered by his change of demeanour.

‘You shouldn’t have switched,’ he all but snarls down at her, his voice low enough that his friend cannot hear his following threat, ‘you’ll regret it.’

Sakura, infuriated by his words, straightens her spine and offers the darkest glare she can muster. ‘Who the hell do you think-?’

‘Hey, Sakura!’

The pinkette whirls around to see Naruto bounding down the hallway, followed by a much less enthusiastic Sasuke. Forcing her fury down into her now tightly clenched fists, Sakura tries to smile at the blonde who shamelessly invades her personal space by pulling her in for a bone-crushing hug.

Groaning under his hold, Sakura pats his shoulder, huffing a laugh, ‘hello, Naruto.’ She waves at the ravenette who nods back at her in greeting, sensing her discomfort and yanking his boyfriend back by the collar of his shirt.

Sakura hasn’t seen the duo since their night out, and although she thinks she does a good job at ignoring the silver-haired man who is now glaring at the side of her face, her cheeks heat at the reminder of exactly what took place that night.

‘How’ve you been?’ Naruto asks her, glancing to his left to greet Kakashi, ‘oh, hey ‘Kashi-sama! Haven’t seen you ‘round here lately.’

 _Sama?_ Sakura’s eyes narrow at the honorific and it seems Sasuke notices her expression, roughly elbowing Naruto in the ribs. The blonde grunts, realising his slip-up a second too late, eyes flickering to Sakura, to Kakashi, and back again, tanned cheeks now flushing.

‘U-Uh, I mean-’

‘Get lost,’ Kakashi’s head snaps towards him, seething, and Naruto doesn’t have to be told twice. He rushes down the hallway, Sasuke close behind him, the pair disappearing into their shared apartment with the slamming of a door.

Sakura gawks after them, lips parted with shock. ‘You didn’t have to talk to him like that,’ she snaps, but he only ignores her, not bothering to respond.

When she looks at Kakashi again, he’s already looking at her, his gaze trained in on her neck. When she realises he’s looking for the bruise she’d purposely covered up, she slaps a hand over where she knows it still stains her skin, wincing at the dull pain that throbs under her skin. Kakashi’s anger seems to have tripled in a matter of seconds and he takes a step closer, to which she responds with a flinch backwards.

At this, his expression morphs into one of pure fury and for the first time since meeting him, Sakura feels a jolt of fear creeping across her skin. As if sensing this, Kakashi immediately pauses, eyes unblinking as he continues to stare at her neck, ‘you covered-?’

‘What the fuck are you still doin' out here?’ Obito’s voice suddenly interrupts their interaction and Sakura’s relief is expelled audibly through parted lips. Kakashi’s lips press into a flat line and he quickly hides his anger with a practised ease that Sakura can only commend as his dark-haired friend appears next to him, frowning.

‘Thank-you for walking me home,’ Sakura speaks before Kakashi can, quickly announcing her departure before her mood can worsen. ‘Make sure you don’t knock your stitches,’ she reminds Obito, looking at him once to offer him a strained smile.

‘No problem, doll,’ Obito grins easily, to ease the tension, Sakura guesses, ignoring the glare that Kakashi now aims at the side of his face. Sakura doesn’t bother to look at his friend, her annoyance bubbling in the pit of her stomach as she shoves her door open and stepping inside her apartment. As she shuts the door behind her, she hears Obito hissing, ‘the fuck did you say to her?’ She doesn’t hear Kakashi’s response, his door slamming shut just seconds after hers.

๑

At first, Sakura blames it on a figment of her imagination.

Convinced that she’s just being paranoid, she acts as if the prickling of the hairs on the back of her neck is down to just a few days of bad weather. But by the time Saturday arrives, she almost doesn’t want to leave her apartment when she has to go out shopping for a birthday gift for Tsunade. She considers just ordering something from the internet, but with the blonde’s birthday just a few days away, Sakura doubts that it’d arrive on time.

So at around midday, she reluctantly leaves her apartment and makes the short walk into town. She chooses a handmade sake set, along with a very expensive brand of vodka that she hopes the older woman will enjoy.

However, as she’s exiting her favourite bookstore, the sensation returns. Glancing around her, she tries to pick out someone - _anyone_ \- who may be watching her. But she sees nothing suspicious among the people gathering in the midday bustle and she swallows down her paranoia as she starts to make her way home. Gripping her bags a little tighter, the sensation of eyes on her back seems to weigh heavier as she turns onto the street that leads the way to her apartment. She considers diverting, now wholly convinced that someone is following her, but dares not to turn and check. But with her apartment block now in full view, she decides to make a run for it, uncaring if she looks a frantic mess. Her horror is confirmed when she swears she hears the sound of footsteps rushing after her and she’s almost crying as she reaches the door.

Heart in her mouth, she barges through the door, barely noticing Kakashi leaving his apartment as she collapses to the floor, gasping for breath. Chest heaving, she allows the older man to kneel before her. His face is covered by his mask, but she sees his jaw moving as if he’s speaking to her. Only, she can’t hear his words, muffled by the sound of the blood rushing in her ears.

She feels faint, she realises, head falling back to lean against the wall behind her, barely processing Kakashi’s hands on her, tilting her head to look at him properly.

‘Breathe,’ Kakashi all but yells at her, a hand slapping her face lightly. ‘Sak-!’ She tries to suck in air between her lips, her hands shaking as she grabs a fistful of Kakashi’s shirt.

‘S-Someone-’ she stutters, teeth chattering. ‘Followed… they followed…’ Her tongue feels heavy in her mouth and she doesn’t even know if her words are making any sense, but then Kakashi is shouting over his shoulder and suddenly, Obito’s blurred figure appears and he’s rushing past them, throwing the door open and exiting the building. Her chest is now beginning to hurt, her breathing erratic.

‘Breathe,’ Kakashi orders her, his eyes wide as he stares down at her. ‘Fucking breathe, damn it,’ he barks, placing a hand against her mouth, forcing her to exhale through her nose. She almost chokes, but her breathing begins to slow as she forcefully drags in air through her nostrils. Kakashi’s form leans over her, domineering but comforting all the same. Her eyes slide shut and she feels a trickle of sweat rolling past her temple. And then a lone tear escapes the crevice of her left eye, quickly followed by a flood of others.

Kakashi removes his hands to frantically wipe at her cheeks, his skin warm against hers as he repeatedly glances at the door, awaiting Obito’s return. But one hand remains pressed to her throat, checking for her pulse, Sakura realises, feeling it throb against his fingers.

‘You’re okay,’ he’s looking at her again, and she can hear him clearly now, her breathing slowed enough for him to withdraw. She hates that she immediately misses his warmth, her nose crinkling as she wipes at her tear-stained cheeks. Kakashi remains crouched in front of her until Obito bursts back through the doorway, dragging a man behind him.

He all but throws him to the floor, not bothering to hide his sickened grin as the man yelps in pain.

Wide-eyed, Sakura watches as Obito’s combat boot covered foot rears back before flying forward. Her eyes squeeze shut at the choked, wet cry that echoes down the hallway, Kakashi’s breath hot on the top of her head as he reaches for her, his hand wrapping around her wrist. She dares to look again, only to see Obito’s foot rearing back again.

A hand flying out, she squeaks, ‘no, don’t!’

And much to her relief - along with the man on the floor, now bearing a heavily bleeding nose - Obito’s foot freezes, mid-kick.

‘Sakura,’ Kakashi hums her name. His grip on her wrist feels a little tighter, ‘he was stalking you.’

The pinkette gawks at him, ripping her hand from his grasp, ‘what do you care?’

Kakashi’s expression appears bored as his eyes stare at her, ‘you literally just had a panic attack. I’d have to be a cunt to not care.’

Sakura doesn’t comment on the insult, neither agreeing or disagreeing. Instead, she stands on wobbly legs, her hands still shaking as she gathers her bags. All three men watch her, the man on the floor curling as he braces for another hit. She forces down the fear that she tastes on the back of her throat at the sight of his face. She isn’t even sure if this is the person who was following her, but her confusion is only heightened at both Kakashi’s and Obito’s reaction.

‘Let him go.’

Obito’s head snaps to her this time, and even the man on the ground looks gobsmacked.

‘You’re fucking joking, right?’ Obito spits, ignoring the intruder’s flinch at his tone. ‘He followed you-’

‘We don’t know if it’s actually him,’ Sakura is surprised by the bite that creeps into her voice. ‘If it _is_ him, I’ll report him if I see him again… but I can’t watch… _this_. It’s my… duty to care for people, not hurt them.’ She regards the man, swallowing down the promise of tears that threaten to escape the corners of her eyes. Her eyes closing, she tilts her head towards the door, ‘just go.’

The man doesn’t have to be told twice.

With surprising speed, he bolts from the building, the door swinging back heavily.

‘I can’t fucking _believe_ -’ Obito starts, growling. ‘Do you have _any_ idea of what you’ve just done?’ Much to his frustration, Sakura doesn’t reply and through narrowed eyes, he watches her stumble towards her apartment door. ‘He followed you-’

The tired look Sakura gives him makes him pause, and he watches her glance from him to the suspiciously silent Kakashi stood beside him.

‘I don’t even really know you,’ Sakura reminds the both of them. ‘Me being followed is none of your-’

Kakashi suddenly exits the building, not bothering to listen to the end of her sentence. The door slams shut and Sakura is left with Obito and the pool of blood that’s been smeared across the ground. She grimaces at the sight, and tries to not cry, _again._

Instead, she looks at Obito, who looks back at her, frowning.

‘You have no idea, do you?’ He asks, his voice strangely quiet. Sakura blinks at him, dumbfounded. He doesn’t await her answer, turning on his heel as he moves towards the door. He pauses, forcing a smile over his shoulder, ‘be a doll and lock your door tonight.’

Sakura doesn’t get the chance to tell him that she _always_ locks her door because he’s already gone, and for a long while after, Sakura stands, gazing at the puddle of blood that is beginning to congeal on the tiled floor.

_What the hell just happened?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed!!  
> \- please show support by leaving a kudos or even a comment; i'd love to hear what you think.  
> 


	4. よん

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i do not own any of Naruto.  
> \- i feel like this story is good practice for my smut writing skills, as i'm not entirely confident yet, so here's another smut scene; enjoy!

Sakura returns to her apartment with a loud slam of her door. She doesn’t care if the noise disturbs her neighbour next door - _if he’s even home_ , she thinks bitterly - throwing her keys into the decorative bowl on the kitchen counter. Dumping her purse on the dining table, she discards her cardigan by throwing it into the washing machine, as well as the remainder of her work clothing, until she’s clad in just her underwear and a bra. After a moment of deliberation, she strips out of those too, shoving them into the basin before adding washing powder before she switches the cycle on.

After, she stomps into her bedroom, not bothering to grab fresh clothes as she crosses the room towards her en-suite, throwing the door shut behind her. She switches the shower on, to the hottest setting she can stand, before scrubbing every inch of her skin clean.

Today was one hell of a day, she begrudgingly admits as the water cascades over her hair and almost scalds her skin. The clinic had been overrun by patients whom were suffering from a flu that’s being spread around the town. It had been non-stop work that had even left Ino without a word to say when the staff had eventually left for home. And to tither her annoyance into downright irritation, Obito had accompanied her on her journey home. Again.

His presence had been welcomed for the first few days after her run-in with the strange man that had followed her home. However, after she sees no sign of the man after the first day, and then the second, her nerves began to dissipate, and she had felt comfortable enough to walk home alone. But when she’d told Obito this on the third morning, he’d swiftly disagreed and continued to walk her to and from work. And so when she’d seen him waiting for her just an hour ago, her bad mood had soured until the point that her teeth were grinding by the time she’d arrived outside her apartment door. She hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye when she’d slammed the door shut behind her.

She hasn’t even told Ino, nor Hinata, of what had occurred. Not even when Ino had all but squealed when she’d caught sight of Obito waiting for Sakura after work one day. Sakura doesn’t even remember the excuse she’d given her friend before glaring at the dark-haired man with such ferocity that he’d managed to keep his snide comments to a minimum. It most certainly didn’t help that he’d now picked up the terrible habit of addressing her as either ‘doll’ or, much to her increasing irritation, ‘Pinky’.

She breaks her train of thought with an exhale, scrubbing shampoo into her hair before rinsing it out. She only looks forward to a weekend of relaxation. However, just as she’s finishing her shower, a loud knocking at her door, throwing all of her plans out of the window. Sighing heavily, Sakura debates ignoring the knocking as she rushes to dry her skin and dress in a pair of shorts and an oversized t-shirt. But whoever is at the door is persistent, and she huffs, marching out of her bedroom and yanking open the front door so harshly that it blows her dampened hair back from her face.

‘Hey,’ Kakashi greets her, his voice low.

Sakura’s grip tightens around the doorframe at the sight of him, surprised by his presence. He leans to the left, supporting his weight on the wall as he crosses his hands over his chest. The movement draws Sakura’s gaze to his hands, taken aback to see the bruises littered across his knuckles. They look to be a few days old, she concludes at the sight of the skin yellowing in some places. His left index finger appears to be injured too, a makeshift splint crafted by a strip of fabric, tying it securely to his middle finger. Brows already pinching together, she looks up to meet his gaze, ‘what happened?’

He doesn’t answer her, his eyes narrowing a fraction.

Sakura peers back, unsure of what to say. She watches Kakashi take a step towards her, and she tries to hide the way she flinches back slightly. But he sees it, immediately halting. His frown makes her stiffen, watching his throat bob as he swallows. ‘Are you afraid of me?’

She shrugs, looking away.

Displeased by her answer, he takes another step closer. But before he can speak, Sakura interrupts him, ‘did you hurt him?’ He pauses, dark eyes boring into hers as she stands in the doorway, arms crossing over her chest. Sakura looks out to the dark stain that she can see just behind him. Someone - she’s not sure of whom - had cleaned up the blood by the time she’d left her apartment the following day. But the mark still stains the tiled flooring, a constant reminder of how she’d struggled through a panic attack at the thought of someone harming her. She almost scoffs at her own weakness, shaking her head lightly as she meets Kakashi’s gaze once more.

‘He won’t be bothering you anymore, if that’s what you mean.’

Brows slightly raised, Sakura blinks, ‘what do you-?’

‘It’s been taken care of,’ Kakashi says, and although she cannot see majority of his face that is hidden behind the mask, she’s sure his expression lacks any humour.

‘Taken care of…?’ She grimaces, eyes flitting to the bruises on his hands. ‘Did you hurt him?’ She asks again, dread sinking into the pit of his stomach. ‘Did you send Obito to watch me?’

At this, Kakashi raises an eyebrow, ignoring her first question, ‘I couldn’t do it myself this week, so-’

‘I’m not a child,’ Sakura interrupts, scowling, ‘I don’t need a guard-dog.’

The corner of Kakashi’s eyes crinkle as if he’s smiling.

‘What do you want anyway?’ Sakura inquires, watching his eyes squint down at her. He glances over his shoulder as if he heard a noise, and Sakura strains to do the same. But she hears nothing, and Kakashi act as if nothing happened, turning back to her.

He holds his hand up, wiggling his injured fingers under her nose. ‘Can you take a look?’

Sakura almost tells him to shove it, to take his sorry ass to the hospital and leave her alone to nurse a bottle of wine for the remainder of her Friday evening. But guilt gnaws into the centre of her chest before her mouth can open to deny him. He _had_ helped her through a panic-attack, she reminds herself. As of _why_ he had, she doesn’t know, but her feet move of their own accord and she’s stepping to the side to allow him inside.

‘Not here,’ he tells her. His head tilts towards his apartment door and Sakura cranes her neck to see that it’s stood ajar, waiting to be closed. ‘Obito - his stitches got ripped open and-’

Sakura is already turning away to rush towards the kitchen. She grabs the first-aid kit, only just remembering her keys before stepping out into the hall, uncaring of the fact that she’s barefoot. She closes the front door, pushing past Kakashi to shove his apartment door wide open. Stepping inside, she feels him right behind her, her nose encased in his scent the further she walks down his small hallway. The layout of his apartment is almost identical to her own, except it’s the opposite the way round. Where her bedroom stands to the left, his stands to the right and Sakura suddenly realises just why she’d heard almost everything he’d done that first night. Her cheeks redden at the memory but she has no time to relish in her embarrassment, nor nosey at his belongings, Kakashi leading her into his bedroom.

‘About fuckin’ time,’ Obito seethes from the mattress as Sakura enters the room, eyes wide as she takes in the scene before her. He’s sat upright, which she’s glad for, leaning back against the bed-frame as he glares at his friend. What worries Sakura is the amount of blood that is caked over his leg - the wound she’d cleaned last week is now gaping open and much to her horror, she can almost see the fat beneath. Barely registering the man sat to Obito’s left, Sakura rushes forward, scrambling to open the first aid kit, throwing it down onto the middle of the mattress.

‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’ She snaps at Kakashi, who comes to stand to the side of the bed. ‘He could’ve bled to-’

‘Aha, Pinky,’ Obito groans out a weak laugh. ‘I’ve had worse.’

‘ _Trust me, he’s had worse._ ’

Sakura remembers his words from when she’d stitched Kakashi’s wound, glaring at Obito as she swipes an anti-septic wipe across his skin. His leg twitches and even the man beside him pulls a funny expression, clearly uncomfortable. She almost wishes that she could convince him to go to the hospital, but if Kakashi’s previous reaction is anything to go by, Sakura already knows what Obito’s answer will be. So instead, she grits her teeth, getting to work on cleaning up his skin the best that she can.

‘What the hell did you do?’ She hisses as she presses another anti-septic wipe to his wound. ‘I only saw you half an hour ago.’

Obito snorts, his eyes blinking heavily as he watches her work. ‘Was out with Yamato. Fell over,’ he gestures to the mousey-brown haired man who looks a little too queasy.

‘If you’re going to be sick,’ Sakura doesn’t look up from her work, not bothering to comment on Obito’s blatant lie, ‘please do it elsewhere. He’s already at risk of infection.’ Yamato makes a noise, but doesn’t move from the bed. Sakura barely notices Kakashi leaning against the wall, watching her every move. ‘Can you get him some painkillers at least?’

‘Gai’s on his way,’ is the gruff reply. Sakura has no idea who Gai is, but hopes that whoever he is, he hurries, her eyes glancing to the sweat that’s formed upon Obito’s brow. He’s still awake, thankfully, his fists clenching the bedsheets in an attempt to remain as still as possible. Stitching him up takes a little longer than she hoped for, three pairs of eyes fixated to her, even Yamato watching her work with an expression of both nausea and admiration. She forms the stitches as neatly and as quickly as she can, only pausing to clean his wound a second time.

‘He needs something sugary to drink, preferably a fizzy drink,’ she says to no-one in particular. ‘It’ll help to stop him from fainting.’ She looks at Kakashi pointedly, who challenges her stare with one of his own. At her words, however, Obito manages to bite out a stuttered laugh.

‘I’ll get him a can,’ it is Yamato who answers her, shuffling across the mattress until he’s standing next to the bed before he exits the room. He returns as Sakura is wrapping a bandage around Obito’s thigh, securing it with a knot. Pressing the can of Coke into Obito’s outstretched hand, Yamato remains standing this time. ‘Are you a doctor?’

Sakura nods, despite the fact that she deems his question a little stupid.

She waits until Obito has gulped down a fair amount of the liquid before she leans back, ready to clean the mess. Yamato presses a hand to her shoulder, and when she looks at him, his expression is one of relief and gratitude. ‘Thanks for your help, Miss…?’

‘Sakura,’ she offers a small, tired smile.

‘Oi,’ Obito swats his friend’s arm. ‘She’s my doctor, back off.’

Yamato rubs his arm dramatically, and Sakura doubts that Obito actually hurt him. She makes a move to collect her supplies once more, ready to throw out the used wipes and the soiled towel someone had shoved under his leg.

‘We’ll clean it up, don’t worry,’ Yamato insists, his hand pressing against her shoulder once more. He smiles gratefully before gathering the mess, Sakura watching him exit the room to dispose of the used needle and ruined towel. Sakura takes the time to excuse herself to the bathroom, scrubbing her hands clean.

‘Be careful this time,’ she scolds when she returns to the bedroom, grabbing a hold of the first-aid kit in one hand, the other fishing in the pockets of her shorts for her keys. ‘I mean it. I won’t be stitching you up a second time - you can go to the hospital next time.’

Obito’s lips part, ready to protest.

‘You’re lucky it wasn’t more serious. Both of you,’ she adds with a side glance to Kakashi. ‘But I’ve already had a warning at work. I could get into a lot of trouble for not formally recording down patient injuries. Especially those that need hospital care.’ She pretends to not hear the obnoxious slurping noise Obito makes as he swallows down another mouthful of his drink.

‘A warning?’ Kakashi finally speaks up, frowning. Sakura doesn’t look at him, her cheeks hot.

She ignores him, already turning to exit the bedroom. ‘Oi, Pinky,’ she pauses at the sound of Obito’s voice. Glancing over her shoulder, she’s taken aback to see the relaxed smile upon his face, ‘thanks.’ She doesn’t know what else to say, so she settles for a small nod before she steps out of the room. She almost bumps into Yamato, whispering a goodbye as she squeezes past him to leave the apartment. As she walks away, she hears hushed voices behind her, but doesn’t bother to stop and listen. She crosses over to her door, but as she unlocks it, pushing it open, a hand curls around her wrist.

She turns to see Kakashi towering above her, instinctively taking a step back.

Kakashi follows her, standing so close that she can feel his body heat. She swallows down the nerves that tingle across the back of her neck, pulling her wrist free from his grasp.

‘You received a warning,’ he’s the first to speak, eyes unreadable as he stares down at her. ‘Is it because-?’

‘I slept with you,’ Sakura interrupts him, her voice quiet, filled with shame. ‘I shouldn’t have and my boss made it clear that it’s not to happen again. That’s why you and Obito were switched - it’s no longer professional if I kept you on as my patient.’

Kakashi stares down at her as if he’s not listened to a word she just said.

‘A-Anyway,’ Sakura stutters, ‘if either of you get _stabbed_ again-’ his eyes narrow at the word. ‘-Then go to a hospital. I’m not going to lose my job over people I don’t even—what-? What are you doing?’

Kakashi pushes her backwards, guiding her back into her own apartment until they’re both stood in the small hallway, his foot kicking the door shut. He pries the first-aid kit from her hands and Sakura simply lets him, watching him as he discards it onto the kitchen counter, along with the key that is still curled in the palm of her right hand. Then he takes a moment to regard her and she fights the urge to shiver under his heated stare. He takes a step closer, his hands reaching for her chin, holding her still.

‘W-What are you-?’

He doesn’t allow her to finish her useless question, one of his hands letting her go to pull his mask down his face. She doesn’t miss his tongue darting out to lick his bottom lip and she can almost _feel_ the blood that swims itself down her eardrums. Kakashi’s head lowers, his fingers tilting her chin upwards until his nose bumps against hers. His thumb traces over her jaw, tickling her skin as he presses her back into the counter.

‘Tell me to stop,’ he murmurs, his lips _just_ brushing against hers. ‘Tell me,’ he repeats his warning. But Sakura can’t. She can barely breathe, barely think. She hates that despite her knowing that this is all kinds of wrong, with just one touch, she’s already putty in his hands. She feels the heat squirming into the pit of her stomach, her eyes fluttering shut as she inhales deeply, breathing in his scent. Her eyes dart to the wall where she knows Obito and Yamato are just on the other side.

‘Your friends-’

‘They’re old enough to look after themselves.’ His grip tightens a little, his tongue darting out to lick, not his own, but her bottom lip this time.

‘My boss-’

‘Doesn’t have to know,’ his words are breathed against her mouth, a blush staining her cheeks much like Obito’s blood had tainted her hands. ‘Let me repay you,’ Kakashi hums, his own eyes closing as his lips ghost over hers.

‘I’ve already told you,’ Sakura mumbles, frowning, although her eyes remain closed. ‘I didn’t heal you to be repaid.’

Kakashi leans back a little and Sakura immediately follows him, annoyed at herself for doing so. When she opens her eyes, he’s already staring back at her, his eyes so dark, lined with lashes that would make any of her girlfriends jealous. His fingers tickles her jaw again.

‘I want you,’ he tells her, his breath fanning across her reddening cheek. The corner of his mouth tilts up into a lazy, but breathtaking smile. Sakura reaches to press her finger against the beauty mark on his chin, much like she had the night they’d first slept together. He grunts, eyes heavily lidded, ‘I’m no longer your patient. You can’t get in trouble.’

Sakura scoffs, ‘you don’t know Tsunade, then.’

Kakashi hums again, ‘maybe not.’ His nose bumps against hers once more, ‘but I’d like to get to know you.’

‘We’re just strangers,’ Sakura reminds him, reminds herself. Begs herself to see the sense behind her own words. But her body betrays her, leaning into his touch, his warmth kissing against her skin. He ignores her words, his hands moving from her face to slide down to her hips, his grip almost bruising.

‘Tell me to stop,’ he warns her again. And when she doesn’t, he kisses her.

The next few minutes are a blur.

One moment, they’re kissing in the hallway and the next, Kakashi is pressing her into her mattress, his mouth closing around her neck, suckling a fresh mark against her skin. Her fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him flush against her until she can feel his growing arousal pressing against her thigh. Breathing a sigh, she relishes in his touch, his scent, his warmth. The more rational side of her tells her to push him away, tell him to never touch her again and to leave her alone. But she can’t help it. The sensation of his lips trailing from her collarbone to the base of her throat is addictive, enticing a soft moan from her lips.

In that moment, she doesn’t care that about the fact that she met him just over a month ago. It feels as if she’s known his presence for years, as if he belongs there, his arms curling around her waist, pulling her closer. He whispers something into her hair, his word muffled against her temple as he suddenly shifts their position. She’s suddenly straddling him, the new position so improper that it enflames her cheeks. Head ducking, she avoids looking at his face - despite how stupidly good-looking he is - and plays with the hem of his t-shirt.

Sensing her sudden apprehension, his hands encircle her wrists, ‘what’s wrong?’

Sakura clears her throat, shrugging half-heartedly. She looks over his shoulder, gaze focus on the doorknob, ‘I don’t really do one-night stands.’

Kakashi observes her a second too long, but she’s unable to read his expression. He reaches to push a strand of her hair behind her ear, ‘it’s hardly a one-night stand if you have sex with the same person twice.’

He chuckles lowly at the dark look she gives him and she pretends the sound doesn’t affect her in the slightest. ‘Okay,’ she tuts, rephrasing, ‘I don’t make a habit of having meaningless sex with people I don’t know.’ She eyes him pointedly and the sombre expression on his face startles her.

His grip tightens around her wrist, ‘it’s not meaningless.’ His thumb traces circles on the back of her left hand. ‘And we don’t have to be strangers.’

Sakura eyes him, bewildered by his words, ‘but we-’

‘We can keep doing this,’ he then says, silencing her. His eyes are boring into hers and Sakura finds it hard to look away. ‘We don’t know each other, I know,’ he says this with a scowl. ‘But we can… set up a deal.’ Sakura frowns at him, but as her lips part to question him, he elaborates, ‘hospitals are out of the question for people like us. You keep treating us, and I can repay you…’ he trails off, his eyes suddenly fixated to her lips, staring hungrily.

Sakura is silent, perched upon his lap as if she cannot feel his erection pressing into her groin.

_People like us._

A part of her wants him to tell her exactly what he means by that. Another doesn’t. But a small part of her dreads that she already knows exactly what he means. It makes her stomach churn as she peers down at his bandaged finger.

‘Repay me,’ she licks her lips before she speaks, his eyes watching. ‘With sex?’

His lazy smirk reappears and Sakura almost wishes that she could engrave it into the depths of her memory.

‘With whatever you want,’ he promises. He releases her wrist, his hands now trailing across her thighs. She feels him throb underneath her and she almost despises herself for being tempted. ‘No-one has to know,’ he says as if he can read her trail of thoughts. ‘Unless you want them to.’

She sees the look he’s giving her, his devilish smile doing sinful things to both her stomach and her heart. Her arousal throbs down her spine, pulsing from the vein in her neck, all the way down to the dampening spot between her legs. She closes her eyes, and before she can regret the decision she’s about to make, she lowers her hips until they’re pressed flush against his.

_No-one has to know._

She watches his lips part, his pant wafting across her neck. Heavily lidded eyes watch her face as she chews onto her bottom lip, her hips rolling, grinding on top of his clothed erection. She releases a shuddered breath, her eyes closing as he leans up to press his lips to hers once more. They kiss for what feels like hours, his tongue expertly teasing her mouth in all the right places, his good hand tangling into her hair. Her kiss is almost as feverish as his, her fingers daring to sneak under his shirt, gingerly feeling his skin for the fresh scar on his abdomen. Feeling the lack of stitches, her thumb gently presses against the healed skin underneath. She exhales a sigh of relief against his lips, her fingers trailing higher until they’re splayed around his waist. Under her left hand, she traces the scar that curves around his ribcage, the skin slightly raised.

He seems to cherish her touch, a hum of gratitude rumbling across his chest. Sakura answers with a soft moan, their kiss broken as he leans back to pull his shirt from his torso, throwing the fabric over his shoulder. Before Sakura can appreciate the display of his lean muscles, he’s moving to tug her own t-shirt up and over her head, dropping it to join his on the floor. His gaze is heavy as he takes in the sight of her chest, resting his weight back on one hand as the other traces the slight curve of her breast. She squirms under his stare, self-conscious by her lacking in her chest area.

Her arms raise to cover, but his hand catches her wrist before she can, his frown disapproving as he gently flicks her nipple. She stiffens, glaring and he rewards her with a soft laugh that almost knocks the breath from her.

The rest of their clothing is removed before she can process him moving them back into their original position. Her legs curl around his waist and his hands come down to cup under her backside. He leans back a little to look at her properly, her body illuminated by the small lamp on the bedside table. Once more, she’s embarrassed by his stare, but the awe-filled expression on his face makes her cheeks heat. His fingers trace her waist-line, up and over her breasts, along her collarbones, all the way up until he’s brushing her hair back from her face. She doesn’t exactly know what he’s thinking, but his attentions make her feel pretty and shy and a tad sexy all at once. She briefly wonders if this is how he made his past lovers feel, suddenly very envious that other women have experienced this exact moment, her blush deepening.

The tilt of his mouth makes her heart race and she lowers her gaze to see the tensing of his abdominals as he sits upright. His hands are curling under her thighs, lifting her with ease, despite his injured finger. A short squeak bursts past her lips and she hides her face in the crook of his neck as he lowers her once more, his cock sliding into her with the aid of her slick that is already gathering between her thighs. He groans against her, pausing to let her adjust, unlike the first time they’d joined together.

Sakura is the first to move, gently rolling her hips into his, delight settling into the pit of her stomach as he breathes a low moan into her shoulder. His hands slowly guide her up and down, up and down, up and down until she’s confident enough to do it herself. Once she sets her own rhythm, she feels his fingers skimming over her back until he’s gently pulling on the ends of her hair, forcing her head back so that his lips can reach her neck for the umpteenth time.

A particular bucking of her hips makes them both gasp out at the same time, Kakashi groaning into her throat, his tongue darting out to taste the trickle of sweat that’s begun to form on her skin. Sakura whimpers above him, her hands grasping to use his shoulders as leverage. She raises her hips until just the tip of his cock remains buried in her heat, before slowly sinking back down. The choked moan he releases is her reward and she repeats the action, greedy to hear him again.

He grants her with noises that threaten to break through the tightening in the base of her abdomen, her legs squeezing around him. She whispers his name against his mouth, barely managing to kiss him as her hips buck faster, rising above his head as she cradles his face in her hand, her other arm curling around his shoulders.

Dark eyes meeting hers, she suddenly feels a coyness as he watches her. She can practically hear the smile he flashes her, his rapid breathing expelled through his nostrils as he switches the control. He holds her hips in place, and then without warning, he’s fucking up into her at such a pace that makes her head spin. He doesn’t break their gaze, even though he clearly struggles, eyelids fluttering a few times before he nuzzles the crook of her neck. She feels him suckling yet another mark, the feeling of his tongue pressing against the pulsing vein, her breath catching in her throat. By now, she’s sure her entire neck will be marred with his bruises, but she finds little reason to care.

The sound of their lubricous connection burns her face, but it also spurs her to rock her hips to meet his thrusts. His pace is beginning to stutter, and with a low groan, he eases to one that is much slower, allowing them a breather.

Sakura gently prods his neck, giggling as he grunt. She leans closer, experimentally pressing a kiss to his neck. He exhales, his breath blowing her hair over her shoulders. She litters a soft trail of kisses down the curve of his neck, her tongue dipping into the valley that forms his collarbone. He shivers and she doesn’t miss the goosebumps that expand across his skin, illuminated by the dim glow in the corner of the room.

‘Can I-?’

She doesn’t finish her sentence, but he silently grants her permission, his head tilting back to allow her room. She prays that he cannot hear how heavily she’s breathing, encouraged by the tender grinding of his hips. Again, she kisses her way up his neck, grinning in accomplishment when she hears his breath hitch. He seems just as weak for this treatment as she is, his cock twitching inside her when she begins to suck a bruise into the curve where his neck meets his shoulder.

He moans her name this time, and Sakura stills, squeezing around him in an attempt to stop herself from coming undone. Her attempt fails, and with a broken cry of his name, her orgasm racks through her before she can process it happening. Kakashi is close behind, bucking into her once, twice, thrice, before he spills into her, groaning as she darkens the forming bruise on his neck with another suckle. He pants beneath her, his arms curling around her waist to hold her closer. His cock is still hard, much to her surprise, her thighs already dampened with the mixture of her arousal and his seed.

Her head leans against his shoulder as she breathes through her nostrils to slow the rise and falling of her chest. But his fingers are playing with her hair again, butterflies interrupting the balance in her belly. Sakura sighs, blissed, her eyes closing. His chest vibrates as he speaks, but she doesn’t hear his words, her weight slumping against him. He purrs a chuckle into her hair, his arms tightening around her waist.

And for just a moment, Sakura allows herself to forget, her worries drifting away with her consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed!!  
> \- please show support by leaving a kudos or even a comment; i'd love to hear what you think.  
> 


	5. ご

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i do not own any of Naruto.  
> \- it's been almost three months since my last update, and for that, i apologise :/ however, i made this chapter lengthy, as the story's plot will start to open up from this scene onwards. so i hope that you guys enjoy! thank you to everyone who left lovely comments during my time away; it means a lot to know that you guys are enjoying the story :')  
> \- also, i hope that everyone is remaining safe and healthy during this pandemic!

Sakura isn’t at all surprised to see that she’s alone when she awakes the next morning. She expects to feel guilt gnawing at the pit of her stomach when she rolls over to bury her head into the pillow to her right. Surprised to inhale his scent, she feels a small smile threatening to appear as she realises that he _had_ at least stayed the night.

She knows it’s irrational to feel this excited over someone she met just a month ago. And his offer of a deal _had_ been completely inappropriate. Yet when she eventually drags herself from bed to inspect the bruises on her neck in the bathroom mirror, she can’t help but wonder when she’ll see him next. She knows she will have to hide the marred blues and reds spotted on her skin when she next leaves her apartment - _especially_ when she returns to work in just two days.

But for now, she curls back under the duvet, allowing herself more time to sleep.

However, her peace is soon broken by the sound of her mobile phone ringing. She almost misses the call, jolting from her sleep with a strained groan, her hand blindly searching for the vibrating device on her bedside table.

Her eyes still closed, she doesn’t bother to look at the caller I.D, answering with a muffled, ‘hello?’

‘Sakura?’ Comes Ino’s voice, way too loud and bubbly for the pinkette to hear this early in the day. ‘Listen, I’m with Hinata and Tenten. We’re going for afternoon drinks, and you’re coming with.’

Sakura just manages to sit upright, the muscles in her legs protesting, aching delightfully. Clasping the phone to her ear, the duvet pools to her waist, exposing her skin. She shivers, drawing her knees to her chest, ‘Ino, it’s not even noon yet.’

‘It’s alright, we’re going shopping first,’ Ino’s voice leaves no room for argument. As if she can sense Sakura already racking her brain for an excuse to not come, she then says, ‘we’re already on our way to yours, you can’t say no.’

Actually, she could, Sakura thinks bitterly, but she already knows there’s no use in arguing. In the background, she can hear Hinata’s soft voice, almost drowned out by what Sakura assumes to be Tenten’s car stereo playing music at a volume that is obnoxiously loud. Tenten laughs at something, Sakura hearing a shuffling noise that she assumes is Ino adjusting her mobile phone. The three engage in conversation and Sakura doesn’t bother to listen. Sighing, she realises that she has just minutes until they arrive, stumbling from her bed as she rushes to get dressed and brush her teeth.

As she’s swilling her mouth clean, Ino’s attention returns to her. ‘We’re down the street,’ she calls down the phone, ‘I’ll get Tenten to beep the horn when we’re outside.’ Sakura doesn’t get the chance to reply, the call ending with a soft beep. Sakura quickly applies a thin layer of concealer to her neck, breathing a sigh as she covers the bruises. She thinks to Kakashi’s reaction the first time he’d seen that she’d hidden them from view, her nose crinkling at his very odd hostility towards her that night.

However, she doesn’t have long to dwell on thoughts of him - especially the ones that heat her skin - as she makes the bed in speed timing before exiting her bedroom. She grabs her purse, ensuring that her keys, mobile and wallet are inside, before throwing a thick cardigan on. She’s just tying her shoe-laces when she hears a car horn honking outside, and she sighs heavily as she straightens upright, running her fingers through her hair. She’s sure it looks a tangled mess, but since she’s not even bothered with make-up today, she can’t bring herself to care if she looks less than enthusiastic. Especially when she’d much rather spend the weekend in bed.

But it’s already too late, and she also hasn’t seen Tenten in a while, nor has she spent a day out with her friends since she’s moved into her new apartment. So she supposes it _might_ be a nice break from her latest thoughts of the occupant of number 34. She exits her apartment, pausing to lock the door before she walks out of the building. Spotting Tenten’s car parked illegally in the middle of the road, she hurries along the path. As she does, she feels as if someone is watching her and she looks over her shoulder to see Kakashi leaning against the wall, a cigarette in hand.

His eyes flitter over her entire form, halting at her neck before meeting her gaze. He’s spotted the car by now, she concludes, now that the music is blaring even louder than it had down the phone. The hickey she gave him stands out proudly against his skin, almost as if he’s purposely showing it off under the thin straps of his tank-top. His mask is tucked under his chin, the handles looped over his ears as he presses his cigarette to his lips, inhaling deeply before the smoke billows out from between his lips.

The doctor in her wants to scold him, to reprimand him about the dangers of smoking. But the sight does things to her hormones that make her face flush, clutching at the handle of her purse a little tighter.

And then the corner of his mouth tilts into an almost-smile, and he regards her with those never-ending dark eyes of his. She doesn’t get the chance to return the gesture, another loud horn making her jump. Their eye contact breaks as she whirls around just in time to see the driver window roll down, Ino leaning over Tenten to yell out her name.

‘Sakura! Come on, we’re going to be late!’

The pinkette wastes no time in rushing across the pavement to clamber into the back of the car with Hinata. As she clicks her seatbelt into place, she looks up to see three pairs of eyes peering back at her with mixed expressions of curiosity and suspicion.

‘ _That’s_ your neighbour?’ Tenten is the first to break the silence, her lips pulled into a wicked smile that matches Ino’s.

Sakura groans, leaning her head back against her chair, ‘not you too.’

Ino twists in her seat at the front to jab a finger in Sakura’s face, ‘I’ve already said that you need to get laid. Just look at him… if I had him living right next door-’

‘I mean,’ Tenten interrupts, craning her neck to get a better look, ‘I would if I were you Sakura. He’s actually hot.’ Hinata giggles softly in the seat directly behind Ino.

_No-one has to know._

Sakura prays that they interpret the tinging of her cheeks as annoyance, not as shame.

Ino swivels in her seat to face Tenten, ‘you should see his friend. He’s also _orgasm-worthy_.’ Sakura’s eyes close and she pretends as if she doesn’t know just who Ino is babbling about. ‘He’s got this crazy scar on his face, but it gives him this rough and rugged look, you know? Totally looks like some kind of hot biker dude,’ she sighs dramatically. ‘If only I could-’

‘You mean that guy right there?’ Tenten says, pointing shamelessly out of her open window.

The four women look out of the window in time to see Obito limping out of the apartment block. He moves with surprising ease, Sakura thinks, watching him come to rest against the wall next to Kakashi, the silver-haired man allowing him to pluck the cigarette from his hand. Obito inhales the smoke before blowing it back out, Kakashi’s face hidden behind his mask once more. Obito’s lips move and then the two of them are looking at Sakura. Obito’s lips curl into a knowing smirk, but luckily for her, Sakura’s friends don’t seem to notice it’s aimed towards her. Ino all but squeals, and even Tenten manages to form a smirk of her own. Hinata seems to be the only one with a sensible head on her, quietly watching the scene unfold with a curious look.

Sakura sinks lower into her seat, avoiding Kakashi’s dark stare. ‘Can we go now? They’re patients, we shouldn’t be staring,’ she reminds Ino, frowning when her friend practically cackles at Obito’s smile.

‘God,’ she exhales, sounding exasperated as she says, ‘you’re one lucky bitch, Sakura.’ She nudges Tenten’s arm, ‘come on, she’s right. We’re going to be late if we don’t make a move.’ With obvious reluctance, the brunette does as she’s told, finally tearing her gaze from the duo.

Sakura manages one last peek as Tenten finally shifting the car into gear, scowling as she watches Obito’s lips silently form the word ‘Pinky.’ His grin is both annoying as it is handsome, Sakura’s teeth grit at the sight. But much to her relief, none of her friends appear to notice, already distracted by tampering with the radio as they drive away. Sakura relaxes into her seat, pretending that she cannot see the men watching until the vehicle disappears from view.

๑

‘Just one drink,’ Ino all but begs Sakura as her perfectly manicured fingers curl around Sakura’s bicep. Her expression is a mixture of exasperation and desperation, which only seems to serve the purpose of worsening Sakura’s headache. She knows Ino’s desperate tone is feigned; the blonde already knows that Sakura will give in if she begs enough. ‘We’ve not been out in _ages_ , Sakura,’ Ino nags, shifting her hold to link their arms together. 

Tenten and Hinata walk ahead in a similar stance, both carrying their shopping bags in their free hands. The streets are calmer now that the afternoon is almost over, but Sakura is in no mood for drinking. She’s still nursing the headache which had caught her after hours of trailing behind her friends through the majority of their shopping trip. Hinata had kindly offered her ibuprofen, which Sakura had eagerly consumed - along with half a bottle of water - yet the medication had had little to no effect.

She had yet to buy a single item for herself, much to Ino’s chagrin. However, after telling Ino - for the sixth time in a row - that she wasn’t feeling well, the blonde had relented her nagging. But now that it is almost five o’clock in the evening, both the blonde and Tenten have decided that it is late enough to start drinking. And much to Sakura’s surprise, Hinata also seems to be in the mood for a drink or two. Knowing that the three of them have outvoted her, she heaves a dramatic sigh, allowing Ino to pull her along the street, towards their favourite bar.

Inside, the scent of alcohol makes her nose crinkle, and she swallows thickly, hoping it’ll settle the churning in her stomach. It doesn’t.

Especially when she spots a familiar dark haired man sitting at the bar. As she passes him, Sasuke spares her a nod, dark eyes watching her as she follows Ino to a booth at the back of the building. Sakura sees no sign of Naruto, and she feels a tad guilty for being relieved. She likes the blonde enough, but she’s already decided that she’s in no mood to deal with his enthusiastic nature.

However, as she slides into her seat, she makes the mistake of glancing up. Only to realise that whilst she is glad for Naruto’s absence, Sasuke’s current company is _much_ worse.

With narrowed eyes, she watches Obito takes his seat between Sasuke and an older man, who also bares a striking resemblance. She briefly wonders if he is also of blood relation, only to chew the inside of her cheek, annoyed. She’s sure that he’s followed her; for the entirely of the day, she doubts with the condition that his leg is in. But she definitely knows it’s no coincidence that he’s there tonight. And it doesn’t take long for Sasuke to lean closer, whispering in his cousin’s ear. Sakura is correct to assume that they are talking about her, as Obito’s gaze immediately finds hers.

From across the room, she scowls at him. She barely processes Ino’s questioning of her order, not even paying attention to the name of the drink she mumbles in reply.

Obito simply peers back, making a show of sipping his beer as his eyes remain glued to hers. He doesn’t even look away when the older man leans closer, also peering at her, aged eyes gleaming with curiosity despite his stoic expression. His hair is even longer than Sasuke’s, cascading down to the small of his back, his eyes as dark as his younger companions. His age is hard to guess, Sakura decides, as she can only guess by the way he holds his posture more stiffly. But she doesn’t stare at him for too long, her eyes shifting back to Obito, whom is yet to look away.

The corners of his mouth twist into a smile that enflames the pinkette’s cheeks, and suddenly, her nausea worsens at the sight of Ino practically slamming her glass down in front of her. The action forces her gaze from Obito’s, and she looks to her right to see Ino glaring at her.

‘You _will_ have one alcoholic drink before we leave here,’ she promises, and Sakura follows her gaze down to the pint of Coca Cola before her. She has no recollection of ordering the beverage, but for now, she’s relieved it’s a soft drink. She gulps down a large mouthful, leaning back in her seat. ‘So,’ Ino starts the conversation when Hinata returns from the toilet, ‘Tsunade’s birthday. Plans?’

Hinata’s smile is soft, ‘Kiba has already booked a table at Ichiraku’s for Wednesday. Did he not tell you?’

Ino’s frown is disapproving, ‘you’re telling me that… that dog- _humping_ -’ She pauses when she notices Hinata’s brows pull together. Taking a large swig of her cocktail, Ino is still frowning herself, ‘we can’t give her _ramen_ for her birthday, Hina.’

‘But Tsunade-sama enjoys Ichiraku’s,’ Hinata argues, her voice quiet. Sakura sees the faint blush that threatens to appear on her pale cheeks. She understands that the ravenette holds a particularly soft spot for the _dog-humping_ cleaner-boy. And she suspects that the feeling is very much mutual, especially when she recalls the amount of times she’s caught the pair with their heads together, whispering secrets shared only between the two of them.

Sakura hides her smile behind the rim of her pint, listening as Ino argues back, ‘she may like Ichiraku’s, Hina, but it’s hardly birthday-material.’

Tenten nurses her beer, eyes glazed as she makes a show of acting as if she’s listening to the innocent bickering between their friends. Sakura wishes that she can do the same, but once again, her eyes are flickering to the bar. She’s not at all surprised to see that both Obito and the older man are already looking at her - even Sasuke spares her an uninterested glance or two - but what _does_ surprise her is when Sasuke suddenly rises from his chair. It takes her several seconds to realise that he’s heading over to their table, and when she does, dread fills her stomach.

‘Hi,’ he greets her, solemnly.

The conversation dies immediately. If Sasuke is uncomfortable with four pairs of eyes suddenly trained in on him, he doesn’t show it. He almost looks bored, his gaze heavily lidded as he glances at Ino, seeming torecognise her.

‘Yamanaka,’ he greets, politely tilting his head to both Hinata and Tenten.

‘S-Sasuke?’ Ino practically splutters.

Sakura gawks.

She doesn’t know how Sasuke knows Ino, but it seems that the blonde is just as surprised as she is, gawking up at him as he leans a little closer.

‘It’s been a while,’ he acknowledges. Whether his words are aimed at her or Ino, Sakura isn’t sure. He confirms her thought by lazily regarding her, hands tucking into the front pocket of his jeans. Sakura answers by swallowing down another large mouthful of her drink.

‘You guys know each other?’ Ino asks, bewildered. Both Hinata and Tenten are peering, curiously.

‘He’s my neighbour’s boyfriend,’ Sakura mutters into her glass. Sasuke’s eyes narrow as if he disapproves of his new title, but he doesn’t comment on it.

Ino beams, ‘oh!’ She shifts on the booth, closer to Hinata. ‘Sasuke and I grew up on the same street,’ she explains to her friends. She looks up at Sasuke, ‘you’re welcome to join us, if you’d like.’

‘Hey,’ Tenten interrupts, jabbing a thumb in Sasuke’s direction as if he’s not stood right next to her, ‘he kinda looks like _hot biker dude,_ don’t he?’

Several long moments pass before Ino lets out an over-dramatic gasp. ‘You’re right!’ Her hand even flies to her mouth, and Sakura’s lips purse as she hides a grin.

‘Yeah...’ Sasuke drawls, uncaring of their giggling, his eyes on Sakura again, ‘Obito sent me to ask if you wanted to join us.’

 _Why didn’t he come and ask himself_ , she wants to ask, but doesn’t.

Sakura doesn’t have to avert her gaze to know that the man in question is already looking at her. But she does so anyway. Two pairs of obsidian-coloured eyes greet her. She doesn’t bother to disguise her sigh. But before she can answer, Ino gasps again.

‘Oh my _god_ ,’ she swats Sakura’s arm. ‘It _is_ him! Tenten, it’s _him_!’

‘Yeah…’ Tenten’s voice sounds trance-like. But much to Sakura’s surprise, her eyes are trained in on the older man. And he appears to notice her stare, acknowledging it with a raise of his glass of whiskey. Tenten almost looks faint.

‘I used to be his doctor,’ Ino announces, as if proud of this fact. Sasuke looks as if he doesn’t care. Hinata’s expression is a mixture of gentle amusement and surprise. Tenten is still staring at the older man who remains sat next to Obito. Sakura wishes for the ground to swallow her whole.

‘Well?’ Sasuke asks nobody in particular, but his gaze is focused on Sakura again.

‘Tell him to come over!’ Ino answers for her. Sakura is grateful; the nausea bubbles in her stomach and she’s sure that if she speaks, bile will escape her. The ache in her temples is now throbbing across her forehead, and she fears that she may actually have to consume alcohol to rid herself of the sensation. But it seems that no-one has noticed. Ino scoots a tad closer to Hinata, who also makes space by shuffling towards Tenten. ‘There’s plenty of space!’

Sakura is yet to move, but she nods once, reluctantly agreeing.

All it takes is one glance from Sasuke, and both Obito and the older man are rising from their seats, sauntering towards them. Downing the rest of her drink, Sakura feels Ino’s grasp on her arm for the second time that evening, vice-like as she pulls her over. Shifting uncomfortably, she avoids looking up as she prays that it is Sasuke who sits next to her.

But to no avail, her prayers are ignored.

‘Ladies,’ Obito’s older companion greets them, as stony-faced as Sasuke, with the tiniest amount of amusement glittering beneath his eyes as he regards a now red-cheeked Tenten. The brunette pretends to have not heard him, occupying herself by swallowing down as much of her beer as she can.

Sakura completely ignores Obito, even when he slides into the seat beside her, his thigh brushing against her leg. She pretends as if she doesn’t feel the warmth spreading across her skin, her arms firmly crossed over her chest as she listens to the older man introducing himself as he takes a seat beside Sasuke, at the end of the booth, directly opposite Tenten.

‘Madara,’ she hears, her brow raising slightly at the sight of his lips curling. ‘Uchiha Madara,’ his grin is charming, to say the least. And the sound of his surname confirms her previous suspicions; they _are_ blood related. ‘Can I offer to buy us a round of drinks?’

His eyes focus on Tenten, whom quickly avoids it, blush darkening. Sasuke’s expression remains one of boredom, and Hinata silently finishes off her drink, eyes darting from face to face. Her gaze seems to settle on Sakura, who is sat stiffly next to Obito, whose fingers have annoyingly found the ends of her hair that brush against the back of her seat. She does her best to ignore him, clearing her throat awkwardly when Obito’s fingers give a gentle tug, her elbow discreetly jabbing into his ribs. He releases her hair with a muffled grunt. His jaw tightens, and Hinata hides a knowing smile by pursing her lips around her straw.

When no-one offers an answer, Ino finally speaks up, ‘I won’t say no to a free drink.’ She beams, and Madara returns her smile, albeit evidently more gracefully. Sasuke grunts something about needing to use the toilet, and just as he leaves his seat, Sakura decides that she also does. She nudges Obito’s leg until he takes the hint, limping as he stands beside Madara, who also moves to let her out. On her way to the toilet, she offers her friends a guilty smile, but Ino is already babbling something she can’t hear, Madara seemingly interested in what she has to say. Even Hinata leans closer to listen to his reply. It is then when Tenten abruptly calls out Sakura’s name, drawing Obito’s attention to her once again. He is yet to take his seat again, bracing his weight on his right leg as he stands, unashamed of his staring.

Sakura breaks his stare by watching Tenten shuffling out of the booth.

‘Lemme come with you,’ the brunette offers a cheery grin, linking her arm with Sakura’s. The two are quick to use the bathroom, already making their way back to the table much faster than Sakura would have liked.

However, there seems to be a god after all, as a familiar voice shouts out Sakura’s name. She glances over her shoulder to see Naruto waving frantically, his free arm lazily looped over Sasuke’s shoulder. And despite her aching temples, in that moment, Sakura decides that she’d much rather deal with a drunken Naruto than Obito.

‘I’ll be over in a minute,’ she reassures a curious Tenten, who spares her a knowing smirk before nodding. She departs, leaving Sakura to take the spare seat beside Naruto. The blonde quickly abandons his boyfriend, arms flailing until they curl around her shoulders, tightening until Sakura winces. However, she welcomes his tight hug and friendly smile easier than she expected.

Even Sasuke seems to be in a more talkative mood as he leans over his boyfriend to offer her a greeting that is much livelier than the one he gave earlier. Momentarily surprised, she doesn’t bother to question it, smiling at him.

‘How’ve ya been!?’ Naruto bellows loudly. His cheeks are flushed, his pupils blown as he heavily leans his weight on Sasuke. The dark haired man welcomes him in, his arms curling around Naruto’s waist. His change of demeanour is startling and Sakura has to blink a few times before she answers.

‘I’m… okay,’ she replies, sheepish as both Naruto and Sasuke look at her as if they don’t believe her. Clearing her throat and sitting up a little straighter, Sakura points over her shoulder, ‘I’m actually out with some friends… girl’s night.’ Just as she was about to invite the blonde over, her gaze meets Sasuke’s. And she’d be blind to not see the warning in his stare, his eyes narrowed.

‘We’re about to leave,’ he declares, his tone leaving no room for argument. He hoists Naruto upright, the blonde stumbling as he regains his balance by clinging to Sasuke’s arm.

‘Woah!’ He exclaims dramatically. Sasuke ignores him, and Sakura rises from her seat, bidding them a quiet farewell. ‘See ya later,’ Naruto promises, allowing Sasuke - who seems oddly eager to leave - to pull him towards the entrance. ‘I wanna stay!' He bellows as Sakura is turning away, followed up by, 'you’re no fun at all ‘Ske!’

Arriving back at the booth, the pinkette is confused to see that not only is the tabletop decorated with an assortment of drinks, the seating arrangement has also changed. Madara has moved to the opposite side of the table to sit between Hinata and Tenten, the three of them conversing about a topic she doesn’t have the energy to decipher. Ino sits next to Obito, who looks incredibly bored, and if she wasn’t annoyed with him, she probably would have giggled at the expression on his face. Ino, however, either doesn’t notice or ignores it, continuing to talk at a pace so rapid that even Sakura is incapable at keeping up with. The only free seat is next to Obito, and with reluctance, Sakura sits beside him.

At her arrival, Obito’s head inclines towards her, his left leg twitching as she accidentally brushes against it. He watches her from the corner of his eye, doing his best to listen to Ino, when the blonde suddenly halts her rambling to regard Sakura.

‘There you are!’

Sakura watches as Ino pushes one of the glasses towards her.

‘You promised at least one drink,’ the blonde grins. Sakura sighs, but accepts the beverage. ‘Madara paid,’ Ino reminds her.

Sakura meets the older man’s gaze, offering a polite thanks. He dismisses it with a tiny smile.

‘A woo-woo,’ Obito murmurs, voice laced with amusement. Sakura recalls him buying her the very same cocktail and wonders if he does too. One glance to her right and the sight of the lazy grin gracing his lips tells her that he does. Her stomach churns again, and this time, it’s with nerves rather than nausea.

She gulps down half of her drink in one go.

Ino has joined in the conversation with the others, and when Sakura tunes in, she realises that the topic is Tsunade’s birthday, once more. She decides that it is best left to the _professionals_ , as Ino had once put it when Sakura had offered to help organise a party for Hinata a few years ago.

Leaning back in her chair, she exhales, hand wrapped tightly around the base of her glass. She feels Obito’s fingers tug the ends of her hair, and for a reason unknown to both he and herself, she welcomes the sensation. Her eyes close and she feels her headache throb painfully. Another gulp of her drink and it’s gone, settling into the pit of her stomach. Once finished, she places the glass onto the tabletop, the glass connecting with a dull thud.

‘Pinky-’

‘Why are you still following me?’ Sakura hisses before he can continue his sentence. She does not even have to ask, as she already knows his answer. Her irritation increases at the sight of the stupid grin plastered onto his face. His dark eyes bore into hers and she hates that it makes her cheeks flush. Sitting this close, she can count the freckles on his unmarred cheek, and she even attempts to count each eyelash that adorns both eyes. His smile broadens by the tiniest fraction, but it’s enough to make her look away, embarrassed.

‘It’s for your protection, doll,’ he eventually replies, his voice low enough, so as to not be overheard by her friends. ‘Kakashi-’

At the mention of his friend, Sakura’s brows furrow. ‘So it was him who put you up to this,’ she says. Her fist clenches. ‘I already told him that I don’t need a guard dog,’ she’s angry now, her headache forgotten. Any blissful thoughts she’d remembered of the night before, whistled into irritation. ‘I’m an adult. I don’t need-’

‘I like you, Pinky,’ Obito leans closer, any form of amusement has now vanished from his face. His eyes glower with an anger that burns brighter than anything Sakura has ever seen. His body angled towards her, his lips are pressed into a straight line as he lours at her. Sea-green orbs wander over his face, down to his chest, pausing at the sight of the dress-shirt - that she’d somehow not noticed before - the top four buttons, undone. Then her eyes flutter down to the trousers he’s wearing, to his right hand that rests loosely on his thigh.

The sight of his injured knuckles makes her stomach sink. The blood is dried, but his middle knuckle has already swollen to double its original size. Sakura’s mind reels as she tries to remember if the wound was there when she’d sewn his leg yesterday. But before she can dwell for long, his hand moves, reaching for her.

‘Sakura,’ Obito calling her by her full name makes her eyes snap up to his.

His left hand curls around her wrist and she glances to see if Ino is watching. Except, to her horror, Ino is nowhere in sight. And neither is Hinata, Tenten, nor Madara.

_How hadn’t she noticed them leaving?_

Panic settles and she pulls from Obito’s grasp, eyes rapidly searching for any sign of her friends. ‘Where’d Ino—what? What are you doing?’ Obito grabs for her again, evidently much stronger as he doesn’t even budge when she tries to free herself. After a slight struggle, she somehow wrenches her wrist free, but Obito’s hands are now curling around her biceps, his fingers painfully tight. ‘O-Obito,’ Sakura heaves a gasp, ‘my friends… I need to-!’

He shakes her to snap her out of her panic, his body now looming over hers. His hold tightens and Sakura tries, and fails, to act as if she isn’t terrified. The look on his face is enough to form sweat on the top of her brow. She trembles in his hold, eyes wide and glossy as she looks through the crowd once more, desperate to spot Ino’s blonde hair.

‘Please let me go,’ she whispers, trying to shift from his grasp, ‘I need to find-’

‘Pinky,’ his voice is gentler, his eyes glistening with either worry or unease, she cannot tell. But somehow, this expression makes her panic more; if Obito is worried - despite her not knowing the cause for it - then something must be horribly wrong.

‘What’s happening-?’

‘Pinky,’ he whispers again, tucking a strand of her pink hair behind her ear. His gaze is almost saddened now. Sakura doesn’t think she can breathe. ‘I like you,’ Obito repeats. ‘And I want—’ He pauses, forcing a strained smile, ‘your friends are safe; Madara is trained for this.’

‘For… this?’ Sakura thinks she’s going to throw up. ‘What is _this_? Where has he taken-?’

‘I like you,’ Obito says a third time. His eyes are darting around the bar now, so fast that she isn’t even sure what he’s looking for. Her heart pulses so rapidly that she feels it throbbing against her neck. Her headache has worsened by a tenfold, but she barely processes it, her eyes trained in on Obito’s face. She sees his jaw clench as his brief look of concern morphs into murderous fury. His attention is suddenly focusing on her once more, his dark eyes unblinking as he says, ‘and I kinda want you to stay alive. So I need you to be a doll and duck. _Now._ ’

And before she can react, he yanks her so harshly that she falls headfirst onto the booth, her crown thumping against the tabletop as he pushes her underneath it. A shrill yelp escapes her and a drink spills over the edge, the glass barely missing her leg as it smashes upon impact with the floor.

‘Obito!’

But he doesn’t have the chance to apologise.

Because at that exact moment, someone opens fire. And then, carnage ensues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed!!  
> \- please show support by leaving a kudos or even a comment; i'd love to hear what you think.  
> 


	6. ろく

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i do not own any of Naruto.  
> \- trigger warning for mentions of blood and minor violence.  
> \- thank you all for your lovely comments on the last chapter; i was shocked to receive so many, but it always puts a smile on my face to hear what you guys think!  
> \- also... remember when i said that i was going to update this story weekly? well, big oops. work has been super busy, but i finally found some inspiration to write, so i hope you guys enjoy this chapter, featuring a small obito pov :')

She doesn’t recall passing out, but when Sakura regains consciousness, it is with a rushed whispering of her name and a hand roughly shaking her shoulder. Her sight is blurred and her crown throbs horribly and with a blink or two, she realises that she’s still sprawled under the table.

‘Pinky,’ she hears Obito’s voice, his hand grabbing at her wrist, pulling her upright. She looks up to meet his gaze, and immediately stills.

Dark eyes meet hers, blown wide with adrenaline. His hair is in disarray, his clothes disheveled, his breath uneven. But that isn’t what gains her attention.

Red is splattered across his chest and up his neck, freckles of crimson dotted across his chin. His shirt is saturated, the right sleeve ripped open, most of the buttons missing. She follows the scarred skin of his right forearm, all the way down to the hand that is curled around her wrist, blanching when she sees that his skin is stained scarlet. It’s caked underneath his fingernails, congealing on the back of his hand, smearing up his arms as if he’s tried - and failed - to wipe it from his skin.

It isn’t his.

Her relief is short-lived as she then realises that whilst the blood isn’t his, someone else is injured. Or dead. Nausea settles into the pit of her stomach, but she has no time to dwell on her increasing panic as he tugs her closer to him. She looks at his face once more, unable to hide her grimace. There’s a cut above his left eye, the wound seeping liquid down the curve of his cheek. He ignores it, wild eyes focused on her as he hoists her from under the table. ‘We’ve gotta go.’

Sakura sways as she catches glimpse of the knife he grasps in his free hand, fingers curled so tightly that his knuckles are strained white. Sea-green eyes widen and she stumbles in his hold. Regaining her footing by the tightening of his grip on her wrist, she groans, reaching to feel a sizeable lump forming across her crown. She winces.

‘You’re okay,’ Obito decides for her, already pulling her from the booth. Sakura has no choice but to follow, struggling to keep up with his fast pace as he leads her towards the back door.

The bar is a mess.

To Sakura’s surprise, the building is empty. But the wake of whatever had occurred during her unconsciousness is left staining the floor beneath her feet. She feels her shoes stick as she rushes after Obito, eyes wide as she takes in the sight of the overturned furniture, the smashed glasses thrown across the bar, and the broken window that makes her shiver when a blast of air billows into the building. There is not a single person in sight, much to both Sakura’s relief and bewilderment.

Obito throws open the door, pulling her through the frame. He doesn’t pause when she questions where her friends are.

‘I already told you. They’re safe,’ is all he offers in response.

His lack of elaboration unsettles her, and whilst she would have normally argued, she finds that now isn’t the time to interrogate him, especially when he still wields the knife in his right hand. Lethargic, her eyes droop as she struggles to keep up with his pace as he marches down the pavement. The street is eerily silent, and Sakura silently wonders just how long she was unconscious for. But when her lips part to ask Obito this, she’s interrupted by a sudden shout, followed by a loud bang that echoes through the air.

Startled, she stumbles, but Obito doesn’t falter, jaw clenched tightly as he picks up his pace. There’s another bang, followed by two more, the air ringing in their wake.

‘W-Wait,’ Sakura heaves out, panting as she nurses the forming stitch that threatens to steal her breath. ‘I can’t-’

‘We’re okay,’ Obito assures her, his eyes hard as he glances down at her. His pace doesn’t relent, surprisingly fast for someone who has an injured leg. ‘They’re ours.’

‘Ours…?’ Sakura repeats, frowning. Her head tilts towards where she guesses the noise came from, only to be yanked around a corner as Obito crosses the road.

She isn’t sure where he is leading her, nor why she’s even following him, but a part of her is quick to trust his word that her friends are safe. That she will also be safe under his guidance. Maybe it makes her naive - or incredibly stupid - she doesn’t have enough time to decide, but the strong grip on her wrist feels increasingly comforting with each brisk step that leads them further from the bar. Blindly, she follows until he comes to a sudden halt. She trips over her own feet, letting out a sharp yelp of surprise when her forehead collides with his shoulder-blade.

Obito’s hand clamps down over her mouth, and he pulls her into someone’s front yard, pushing her down until she’s kneeling behind the wall. He crouches behind her, his chest pressed to her back, the palm of his hand tightly pressed against her lips. She does her best to not heave as she inhales the scent of iron, her eyes squeezing shut, blood rushing in her ears.

‘Keep quiet,’ she’s just able to hear him murmur, his breath puffing across the top of her head. She remains as still as possible, her hand grasping his forearm as tightly as she can. Her heart races painfully until she feels a cold sweat beginning to form across her forehead. And that’s when they hear it.

Three rapid gunshots are released, one straight after the other, followed by the sound of someone running. They’re close by, Sakura realises, and by the rigid tensing of Obito’s body behind her, so does he.

‘Shit,’ he curses under his breath. He suddenly removes his hand from her mouth, hurriedly pulling on her shoulders until she’s facing him. The expression on his face is unreadable, but his eyes glint with something so dangerous that Sakura isn’t sure she’s going to like whatever it is that he’s about to say. ‘Take this,’ he orders, pressing the bloodied knife into her right hand.

Gawking, Sakura looks horrified. ‘I-I can’t-’

‘You can,’ Obito hisses in her face, features morphing into a glare. ‘And if you wanna make it home tonight, you will.’

Trembling, Sakura glances down at the weapon, the blade heavy in her hand. The blade is already dried, but the thought of potentially having to use it makes her stomach churn. She looks up in time to see Obito reach under the back of his dress-shirt, untucking a pistol from the waistband of his trousers. He clicks the safety switch, and Sakura feels her own face pale.

Obito squeezes her hand over the handle of the knife, making sure that she is holding it properly. Despite this, her hand still shakes. ‘Listen to me,’ Obito demands, his voice hard. ‘You’re gonna get outta here. You’re going to take this,’ he squeezes her hand around the knife again, ‘and you’re gonna fuckin’ run, alright?’ Sakura feels the promise of stinging behind her eyes and does her best to blink the tears away. Obito chances a look over the wall, before returning his gaze to hers. ‘They’re coming, doll,’ he looks regretful as he says this, his free hand reaching to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ‘I can’t fight ‘em and watch you at the same time… so I need you to be a doll for me and run. Just keep runnin’, ‘kay? Run ‘til you get to Naruto’s—I’ll come for you, I promise.’

Sakura’s tongue is unable to form the words of agreement.

‘Pinky,’ Obito's whisper of her name is almost soothing. ‘You’re gonna be okay. Just… promise me you won’t stop runnin’.’

Sakura nods without really processing his words. Because in that exact moment, someone comes tumbling into the front garden, loudly spitting curses as they manage to skid to a halt.

‘Obito,’ the man heaves out - Sakura has no time to react to his absurd bowl-cut and impressively thick eyebrows - ‘two of them, next street over. I think it’s-’

The end of his sentence is cut off by another gunshot, followed by a man screaming, ‘ _Uchiha scum_!’

Obito’s fingers bite into Sakura’s skin as he forcibly yanks her to her feet. He’s pushing her out of the front yard, the man with the bushy eyebrows close behind them.

‘Promise me,’ Obito demands and Sakura gawks at him, eyes glossy. Another gunshot. Bowl-cut man exposes his own hand-gun, darting down the street without so much as another word. Sakura watches him go. ‘Promise me, Pinky,’ Obito shakes her arm until her eyes focus on him, ‘don’t stop runnin’.’

‘I-I promise-’

Obito’s hand rips from her arm as he’s suddenly tackled to the ground.

Sakura stumbles backwards, frozen as she watches Obito scuffle with the newcomer, their limbs moving in a flurry of attacks. At some point, Obito gains the upper hand and manages to straddle his attacker, his hand tightly squeezing around the other man’s throat. The man gags, choking, hands scratching in an attempt to free himself. Obito’s head turns towards her, and he growls:

‘ _Run_!’

She doesn’t have to be told twice.

Numbed, she struggles to gain her footing, immediately tripping over as she backs away. Her hands graze, but she barely feels the pain, scrambling back up onto unsteady feet - ‘ _god fuckin’— run, damn it_!’ - and then she’s off. The cool night air dries the tears that manage to escape, frozen on reddened cheeks. Her breath leaves her lips in puffed breaths, and she flinches at the sharp cry of pain that echoes the soft squelching of fresh blood being split.

Pulse roaring in her eardrums, she’s quick to make a turn to the left, legs pumping as fast as she can move. She does her best to ignore the ache that throbs across the back of her head, but soon comes to a crashing halt when she runs straight into somebody else. Shrieking, she topples over, eyes shut as she kicks her legs out. Obito’s knife clatters to the ground in her panic, and when her foot connects with the other person’s nose, she is surprised to hear them yelp out her name, voice pained.

‘Stop! Stop screaming-! _Ow_! Did you just-!?’ Sakura manages a glance upwards and is surprised to see the mousey haired Yamato. He gapes at her, a thin trickle of blood rolling down his top lip. He nurses his left hand to his chest, ‘did you just _bite_ me?’

Heart in her mouth, Sakura hunches over as she expels a haggard breath.

‘Y-You scared me,’ she eventually breathes, pausing a moment before she attempts to get to her feet. Yamato follows suit, swiping the blood from his nose with the back of his uninjured hand.

‘Sorry,’ he apologises earnestly, large eyes wide as he takes in her dishevelled appearance. ‘Are you-?’

‘Shush!’ Sakura suddenly ducks behind a wheelie bin, leaving Yamato to stand in the middle of the road, perplexed at her odd behaviour.

‘What are you-?’

But he doesn’t have the chance to finish his sentence.

With headlights so bright that they make Sakura’s eyes water, a car drifts around the corner, tyres screeching as they barrel towards Yamato. The mousey haired man barely has time to jump out of the way, the vehicle appearing to be purposely aiming for him. Fortunately, Yamato is quick enough to dodge, the car skidding to a halt just a few metres away. The driver’s car door is thrown open, a man exiting the vehicle, gun pointed straight at Yamato as he seethes out a threat that Sakura isn’t able to hear.

 _Run_ , Sakura hears Obito’s voice.

The man clicks the safety off, marching up close enough to thrust the barrel against Yamato’s forehead.

_Promise me._

Yamato’s mouth tilts upwards. His hand raises and then he _slaps_ the weapon from his attacker’s hand. There’s a pregnant pause, and no one moves.

Then, someone releases a low laugh.

‘Well, well, well… what do we have here?’

Sakura blinks up at the owner of the new voice, eyes rounded with surprise, before he lunges for her. He pulls her by her hair, dragging her out into the middle of the street, kicking and scratching. He manages to evade a swipe to his cheek when he leans a little too close. 

He sneers, ‘now where have you Uchiha scum been hiding this lil’ kitten?’

The driver chuckles, eyes now trained in on Sakura who manages to land a kick to his friend’s shin. She hears the resounding _crack!_ and the man drops, howling as he clutches his leg. Freed, Sakura is helped up by Yamato, body wavering as she gains her balance.

‘You… bitch!’ The driver jumps at her, and she attempts to duck, but he’s faster and stronger. The impact of the back of his hand connecting with her cheek almost knocks her to the ground. Head snapping to the right, she gasps out a choked cry, hand flying up to cradle her throbbing cheek.

Before the driver can even think of his next move, Yamato’s fist connects with his jaw, sending the man reeling backwards, falling to his companion’s side.

‘C’mon,’ Yamato doesn’t spare them another glance. He’s already grabbing Sakura’s hand and pulling her until they’re both running down the street.

‘Oi!’ One of them - Sakura isn’t sure who - screams after them. There’s a scrambling of feet, and there’s a tense moment when Sakura thinks they’re coming after them. But then; ‘this ain’t over! Do you hear me!?’ Yamato dares to huff out a breathless laugh as he pulls Sakura to a side street, the two ducking under a nearby tree’s low hanging branches as they rush over the cobbled pavement.

_Don’t stop running._

Sakura wants to uphold Obito’s promise, and does her best to keep up with Yamato’s pace. Despite the soreness in her cheek, and the exhaustion that threatens to make her eyes close, her legs somehow remain moving until she recognises the main road by her apartment block. As they run, Yamato spares her a few nervous glances, particularly the open wound on her reddened cheek, that she is yet to notice. Once they are near enough to the entrance doors, Sakura stumbles to a halt, tripping over the top step as she pushes the door open. Yamato stands behind her as guard, eyes repeatedly flickering towards number 34. Sakura’s chest heaves as she fumbles into her pockets for her keys, only to realise - her expression morphing into one of horror - that she’s left her keys in her purse. Her purse, that, in Obito’s rush to escape the bar, has been left behind.

Sakura feels her stomach lurch into her throat.

Yamato frowns, stepping closer when he notices the fresh tears escaping the corners of her eyes. ‘Are you-?’

‘Sakura.’

The pair whirl around to see Sasuke stepping out of Naruto’s apartment, eyes dark as they flicker from the flustered pinkette, to Yamato, and back again.

At the sight of the young Uchiha, Sakura crumbles. Her bottom lip wobbles, and even though she sucks in a shaky breath in order to collect herself, it doesn’t work. Her chest constricts, and suddenly, she’s falling, and Sasuke is in front of her, hands catching her just before she hits the ground.

‘H-He... Obito, he-’ Sakura chokes on her own breath, stomach gnawing on itself. ‘I lost... my keys... my purse is at...’ Her chest heaves out a weak sob, ‘oh god. The police... they’re going to find my purse, and they’re going to arrest me and I’m going to lose my job because they’re going to find my fingerprints on-’

She blanches.

Green eyes lower to her hands. Her _empty_ hands.

‘Fuck.’

Sasuke blinks at the curse, eyes darting up to meet Yamato’s.

‘Shit... _shitshitshit_.’

Sasuke is then shoved backwards, out of her way as she hunches over to the side and promptly empties her stomach onto the floor. Yamato grimaces, taking a very large step backwards, his face pale. Sasuke doesn’t even acknowledge him, eyes glued to the pink haired woman before him. His gaze flitters over her face, hesitating over the swelling of her left cheek. It looks as if it’s already starting to bruise, but he pays it little attention as she’s already straightening up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

‘Obito,’ she starts, eyes welling for what feels like the umpteenth time tonight, ‘he gave me his knife... I-I must’ve lost it-’

A thin, black brow rises at this revelation.

She begins to ramble again, hands shaking as she stares down at the fresh grazes, ‘t-they’re going to find his knife and he’s going to get in trouble, and it’s going to be my fault because I didn’t run... I-I was _supposed_ to run, but I couldn’t and now Obito-’

‘-Can handle himself,’ Sasuke interrupts, shifting so that he can guide her to her feet. She sways, eyes blinking heavily.

‘He told me to run to Naruto’s-’

‘-And you’re here,’ Sasuke looks at her pointedly. She is easily coaxed towards the open door of Naruto’s apartment with the guidance of Sasuke’s hand. ‘Backup is already on their way. You don’t have to worry about him.’

‘But-’

Sasuke’s hand is gentle as he pushes her past the threshold, catching her by the elbow when she trips over the doormat. He closes the door shut behind them and reassures her, ‘my cousin knows how to take care of himself. No one is going to get into trouble... you’re safe here.’ He leads her to the living room and points at the settee, ordering her to sit.

Defeated, she does as she’s told, slumping back against the bright orange throw-over. Head in her hands, she does her best to calm her breathing.

She should never have agreed to Kakashi’s stupid deal.

‘ _You keep treating us, and I can repay you…_ ’

If she had the energy, she thinks that she’d probably laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation.

What started as something that she thought would be casual fun, has now been proven to most likely be one of the biggest mistakes of her life. She has not only potentially put Obito’s freedom at risk, not to mention being attacked herself tonight, but she still doesn’t know of her friends’ whereabouts. The thought of endangering Ino, Hinata or Tenten, all because she made the mistake of sleeping with a patient, is vomit inducing. And if Sasuke hadn’t have pressed a glass of water into her hands at that exact moment, she probably would have ruined Naruto’s lovely cream carpet.

She downs half of the water in one gulp. 

‘My friends-?’

‘Safe,’ comes the monotone reply. ‘My uncle personally escorted them home. They are safe.’

The reassurance should have made her feel better. It doesn’t.

She makes a show of glancing around the living room, suddenly recognising Yamato’s absence. ‘He’ll be back later,’ Sasuke notices her puzzled expression. She doesn’t reply, swallowing down the rest of her drink as fast as she can. It does little to settle the churning of her stomach. They sit in silence for a short while, until Sasuke swaps her empty glass for a bag of frozen vegetables wrapped in a hand-towel. She presses it to her left cheek with a wince, and closes her eyes, head titled back against the cushions.

She hears a door opening, a soft murmuring of voices, and the door closing again. Two pairs of footsteps approach the settee, one settling right next to her. She doesn’t have to open her eyes to know that it’s Naruto.

‘Hey,’ he croaks, voice thick with sleep.

She whispers her greeting, tensing when she feels Naruto boldly wrap an arm around her shoulders. He draws her to his chest and she exhales once, twice, thrice.

‘S'kay,’ Naruto mutters, his fingers stroking her hair. And despite the fact that she hardly knows him, she relaxes against his warmth. His thumb is gentle as it brushes against the wound on her crown, experimenting. ‘Should get ‘nother,’ he’s telling Sasuke.

It’s a bag of fries that are pressed to the back of her head this time, Naruto’s tanned fingers holding them in place, whilst simultaneously allowing her to lean against his flank. No one speaks, and for a long time, Sakura simply listens to the steady drum of the blonde’s heartbeat.

She falls asleep, unshed tears frozen on the tips of her lashes.

๑

It is well past midnight when Obito finally starts to make his way back home.

He’s exhausted, his clothes are saturated in blood, his shirt somehow hanging onto his shoulders by the right sleeve. The injury in his left leg is aching, a painful punishment for aggravating so soon after its second stitching. He limps his way down the street, chest heaving as he pants, body aching and royally pissed off. The wound above his eyebrow has split further, pissing blood into his eye every time he blinks and he briefly thinks his right hand is broken, but a quick bending of his fingers throws that theory out of the window. He’s also pretty sure one of the bastards has literally stabbed him in the back, but he can’t be sure if the blood soaked into the back of his shirt belongs to him or someone else.

He glowers as he takes his time making his way down the street, but just as he’s about to cross over, something glints in the streetlamp. He pauses, glancing curiously. But as soon as he recognises the familiar blade, as well as the black tyre marks that have been burnt into the tarmac, he panics. He’s quick to pick up the weapon, turning it over in his hands with practiced ease, checking for any signs of fresh blood. It’s been hours since he last saw her, and when he glares down at the tyre tracks, the worst of conclusions pressing to the forefront of his mind.

As fast as he’s able with his bad leg, he races towards the apartment block that he could easily call his second home. However, halfway there, a figure steps out into the road before him.

A gleam of silver shines and Obito’s rage boils to the surface of his skin. 

‘Where were you?’

Kakashi eyes him like the wounded beast he is, and it unsettles Obito.

Fist clenching tightly around his blade, he takes a step closer. Kakashi looks unscathed, uninjured, his clothes neat and his hair even looks damp, as if he’s fresh out of the shower. Obito’s eyes narrow, ignoring the gloop of blood that gathers on his left eyelid and he demands, ‘where the _fuck_ were you?’

Kakashi is slow to reply, ‘you look a mess.’

Another threatening step closer, pointedly ignoring the dig, ‘you were supposed to get there four fuckin’ hours ago!’ His hand shakes, and he seethes, ‘this was _your_ idea, so where the hell were you? Sakura-’

‘Sakura?’ Kakashi repeats, eyes narrowing. ‘What does Sakura have to do with this?’

Obito scoffs a humourless laugh, twiddling the blade in between his fingers. ‘She was there. At the bar.’ He gauges his friend’s reaction. The silver haired man is silent, but Obito knows him well. He can practically see the panic seeping from Kakashi’s eyes, his body now tense. Obito asks again, ‘where were you?’

‘I-’ Kakashi is unable to answer. Or maybe he refuses to (he ignores the niggling feeling that the younger man may actually be hiding something from him), Obito isn’t sure. Kakashi suddenly straightens, eyes guarded as he says calmly, ‘I assumed you could handle it alone.’

The Uchiha bristles at the insinuation of his incapability, sneering. ‘It was _me_ who saved her,’ he brags, although he’s not sure if his words are even true. ‘ _I_ handled it. Take a good look,’ he sweeps a hand to gesture to the blood that saturates his clothing. The look in his eye is almost animalistic, adrenaline and endorphins blowing his near-invisible pupils wide.

Kakashi takes in the sight, hiding his concern behind his face mask.

Obito thrusts an index finger in his face, reminding him, ‘don’t forget who is actually in control here.’ He fingers the blade, nostrils flaring as he spits in warning, ‘you try to fuck with me, you _will_ be eliminated too. Family or not, you _won’t_ stand in my way.’

He doesn’t await Kakashi’s response, stalking past him, twirling the blade once more.

‘She’s not Rin,’ Kakashi’s voice is almost pained. Obito stills. Kakashi turns to stare at his friend’s back. He takes a step closer, hand reaching for Obito’s shoulder, ‘don’t punish Sakura for what-’ The dark haired male roughly shrugs him off, spinning on the heel of his good foot. The dirtied blade is pressed to Kakashi’s throat, but it barely grazes his skin, lacking any real intent to harm. But the threat is still prominent enough to cause the stiffening of the Hatake’s spine.

‘Mention her name again,’ Obito growls, voice hoarse, ‘and I’ll fuckin’ cut you.’

And then he disappears into the night, taking Kakashi’s breath with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed!!  
> \- please show support by leaving a kudos or even a comment; i'd love to hear what you think.


	7. なな

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i do not own any of Naruto.   
> \- thank you for 400 kudos (this is the highest amount of kudos i've received on a fic, so eeeee), it means a lot to me to know that you guys are enjoying the story... i honestly didn't think i was going to get past the first chapter, so thank you all for reading, commenting and bookmarking; it truly means the world.   
> \- as a mini celebration for reaching 400 kudos, this chapter is the longest i've ever written for a non-oneshot fic (7k... oops). it's also the fastest, as i've recently discovered that i'm somehow much faster at typing on my phone than i am on my laptop. so i hope you guys enjoy this beast of a chapter, including our first obisaku smut scene :')

A week passes by quickly.

After fleeing Naruto’s apartment before the blonde had even awoken, the remainder of the weekend had been spent with an increasing sense of regret, mixed with the guilt that gnawed Sakura’s insides every time she ignored one of Ino’s phone calls. She’d nursed the injury on her cheek, but no amount of concealer had been able to hide the cut that Tsunade had glared at—but hadn’t commented on, to the pinkette’s surprise—when Sakura had dragged herself to work the following Monday morning.

Bumping into Ino and Hinata had been unavoidable, and much to Sakura’s bewilderment, the blonde had no recollection of their night out.

_‘Oi Forehead, I called you, like, a billion times yesterday—why didn’t you pick up? Also, what the hell did we drink the other night? My head is still killing me and I don’t even remember going home, but I swear we only had one drink—wait, are you wearing makeup?’_

After Tsunade had chastised the pair for chattering—‘Yamanaka, I don’t pay you to gossip, get back to work’—Sakura had sat in her office, stumped.

Had Obito drugged her friends? Or his friend—his name beginning with an ‘M’, she thinks (she’d exclaimed the name _Madara_ when she’d remembered a few days later). Had they slipped something into her friends’ drinks? And if so, how hadn’t she noticed? Maybe she’d been drugged too—maybe that was the real reasoning behind her passing out under the table. The more she thought about it, the more questions were left unanswered, and her temper had steadily risen as the days passed.

She could have easily asked Obito if he had indeed drugged her and her friends that night. Except, she had spent the entirety of Sunday evening promising herself that she would no longer be involved with anyone bearing the Uchiha name (not forgetting to include the occupant of number 34). And when she’d angrily huffed after spying a certain silver haired man standing outside of her apartment door through the peephole, she’d turned up the volume on her television until he’d taken the hint and given up knocking.

Her purse is still missing, and every trip to work had been accompanied by numerous glances over her shoulder. Paranoia has her frantically checking the local paper for any news of the attack every chance that she gets. But by Friday evening, she is bewildered by the lack of report. It’s almost as if the incident had never occurred in the first place.

The only thing that is reported, is a car theft, and a mugging just a few streets away from her workplace, and her first thought is to presume that Obito was behind both incidents. She pretends that she doesn’t feel a tad guilty afterwards.

To her relief, the cut on her cheek has started to close in on itself, and the swelling on her crown has almost disappeared. When she wakes on Saturday morning, an entire week later, the lump has diminished in size and the cut on her cheek is no longer bearing red hot. Its scab is almost healed over and the bruise is a healthy yellow, one that she hopes will disappear by the end of the weekend.

She’s examining said bruise in the bathroom mirror when someone knocks.

She hesitates, debating upon ignoring the culprit, but they continue to knock until it grates on her nerves. She stomps over to the door, throwing it open so suddenly that it earns her an impressively high pitched yelp, and her brows immediately furrow.

Bearing a sheepish smile, and a large tub of ice cream, stands Naruto.

Sakura knows that last week’s events weren’t his fault—hell, he’d allowed her to sleep against his shoulder for most of that night, and had even warded off a very irate and blood soaked Obito when he’d practically kicked his apartment door in—but she can’t hide the look of irritation that the blonde obviously sees as his smile deflates before her eyes.

Guilt churns at her stomach and Sakura expels a heavy sigh. She steps to the side, allowing the blonde to shuffle inside, leaning out of the door to glance down the hallway before she locks the door shut behind him. When she enters the living room, Naruto has already kicked off his trainers and is making himself at home, opening the tub of ice cream with ease. Sakura reluctantly retrieves two spoons from the cutlery drawer in the kitchen, before joining him on the settee. The first few mouthfuls of ice cream are swallowed in silence, and Sakura purposely avoids the azure coloured eyes that glance at her. Eventually, the chocolate flavour is enough to make her feel a little nauseous, and she licks her spoon clean before dumping it onto a coaster on the coffee table.

‘I know how it feels,’ Naruto breaks the silence, voice muffled by a mouthful of the dessert. Sakura’s eyes flit towards his, surprised. Naruto isn’t looking at her, his gaze faraway as he stares at nothing in particular. The spoon gripped in his hand, he hums, ‘I had the same trouble when I met Sasuke.’

Sakura watches him shovel another mouthful, swallowing it down whole.

‘I thought he was cheating on me—that’s how I found out about them,’ he doesn’t have to elaborate on who, ‘I followed him. Was gonna catch him in the act and beat the shit out of him if he tried denying it.’ He scoffs a laugh, ‘ended up walking in on _him_ beating the shit out of someone else... there was blood everywhere, I really thought that fucker was dead.’ His spare hand scratches at a gnarly looking scar on the back of his hand, ‘dunno how he did, but the bastard managed to get up and stabbed me straight through my hand. _That’s_ when Sasuke killed him... kinda knew it was real love, then.’

Sakura stares, unsure of how to respond.

Naruto’s smile is soft as he looks at her, ‘it was hard, though. Had me scared shitless for weeks ‘cause I thought I was gonna get caught for being a witness to murder... I even threatened to leave him a few times too... never got too far, though.’ He swallows another three mouthfuls before grimacing, ‘s’kinda making me feel sick now.’

Sakura gets up to place the ice cream inside the fridge-freezer, discarding the spoons into the sink. Sitting back down, she grabs a cushion and rests it against her chest, leaning on her side to face him.

Naruto mimics her, sprawling his legs across the length of the settee. Sakura doesn’t complain when he rests his feet in her lap. He wriggles his toes inside his socks, right arm stretching up to rest beneath his neck. He eyes Sakura with a knowing, but sympathetic, smile. ‘You’re safe with them, ya know?’

Sea-green eyes narrow, ‘I don’t think—’

‘Trust me,’ Naruto interrupts, still smiling, ‘it took me ages to realise—I had to learn the hard way—you may be scared or pissed, or whatever else you’re feeling right now—but trust me when I say you’re a lot safer than you think.’

Sakura grimaces, ‘safe or not; I have a job. A job that I worked very hard for. I can’t throw that away... I can’t be involved with this. I’ve already broken so many rules by not recording down out of hours treatment... I also refuse to risk the safety of my friends again. Last week should never have happened.’ She sighs, picking at a loose thread on the corner of the cushion. ‘It’s better I stay away from people like them.’

‘That fight at the bar was planned for weeks,’ Naruto blurts.

‘What?’

The blonde’s tanned cheeks take on a reddish hue. ‘Kashi-sama and Obito had it planned—they were supposed to infiltrate this small time gang for some drug money they owed from a while back. But then it all kinda went to shit ‘cause you and your mates turned up. That’s why they had to use the ketamine, and then—’

‘Stop!’ Sakura lunges forward to slap a hand over his mouth, silencing him. She almost looks tearful and Naruto stares at her with wide eyes. ‘Stop telling me,’ she mutters, expression twisted into one of pain as she adds, ‘please.’

Her hand only slips from his mouth when he nods, an apology spilling from out, rushed, but genuine.

‘It’s fine,’ Sakura says, even though the new knowledge has left her feeling far from fine.

So she had been right.

They _had_ been drugged. And with ketamine, no less. Now, Ino’s sudden memory loss makes a lot of sense.

The realisation forces bile to the back of her throat, and before Naruto can react, she’s running to the bathroom, throwing open the toilet lid and—

A hand strokes across her back, comforting, the other gently tugging her hair from her face. Her stomach lurches again and she heaves into the bowl.

‘I’m sorry,’ Naruto’s voice is guilt-ridden. Sakura spits into the ceramic, stomach aching. She groans, acid burning the top of her tongue and clinging to the roof of her mouth. Head swimming, she manages to sit after a few seconds, and once she deems it safe, she allows Naruto to help her to her feet. He leans against the doorframe as he watches her brush her teeth, swilling her gums and cheeks with mouthwash. She spits into the sink, eyes tear-filled as she rinses her toothbrush with water.

There’s a pause, and then Naruto is apologising again, following Sakura back into the living room. She waves it off, telling him that she would prefer to change the subject. He pauses by the settee, head tilting as he regards her with a hum, ‘I can see why they like you, though. You have a good heart, I can tell.’

Pretending that she’s not currently seething with betrayal, her brows pull together, ‘they?’

Naruto grins, ‘yeah, Obito and him,’ he tilts his head towards the wall where her apartment joins number 34. ‘They talk about you a lot.’

Sakura doesn’t want to know the reason behind that revelation, already angered by the mentioning of the Uchiha’s name. She scowls, retort on the tip of her tongue as she’s lowering herself back into her seat, when the doorbell rings for the second time that morning.

Both her and Naruto share a look.

The blonde shrugs in response to her unspoken question, eyes flickering towards the door. Sakura hesitates before straightening her spine and marching over to the door. Forgetting to check the peephole, she clicks the lock and hurriedly tugs the door open.

Only to slam it shut straight away.

‘Who—?’ Naruto starts to ask, bewildered by her reaction.

Sakura faces him, pressing a finger to her lips in order to silence him. He takes the hint, sitting on the arm of the settee, arms folding over his chest.

‘Pinky,’ the muffled voice is easily identifiable by the ridiculous nickname and Sakura glances over her shoulder to stare scornfully at the door.

There’s another tap at the door, quieter this time.

‘Sakura, come on,’ Obito all but begs from the other side of the door. He honestly sounds pitiful, and from the brief look Sakura got of him, she isn’t surprised. That split eyebrow looks like it’s healing horribly.

 _Good_ , she thinks spitefully, only to take it back almost straight away. It really does look painful.

‘Do you want me to—?’ Naruto straightens up, takes a step towards the door, pointing at it.

‘Don’t you dare,’ Sakura hisses at him. The blonde instantly freezes, hands raising in a defensive manner.

‘Sakura,’ Obito’s voice is louder now. ‘I just want to talk... hear me out, will you?’

There’s a small thump as her back connects with the door. She slides down until she’s sat on the floor, elbows resting against her knees. Her hands press to her eyes in an attempt to force herself not to cry. It doesn’t work. And she jumps when she feels Naruto’s fingers burying into the tresses of her hair, pulling her forwards until her temple presses against his collarbone. He remains crouched before her, arms curling around her shoulders and pulling her close. She inhales, body shuddering as she quietly cries against his chest. She doesn’t make a sound, but the force of her body wracking against his is enough to make Naruto frown. His embrace tightens and Sakura feels her nose struggle to draw in air as it begins to bung up with snot. She sniffles, attempting to wipe her eyes dry. Naruto uses the hem of his own t-shirt to wipe her face clean. Sakura doesn’t express her gratitude verbally, but he sees it when she forces a wobbly smile in his direction.

‘I’m sorry,’ Obito’s low voice make the pair jump. His voice sounds as if it’s coming from right under the door, and Sakura suspects he’s also sat on the ground. He sounds mournful as he repeats, ‘I’m sorry, doll.’

Sakura’s bottom lip trembles.

There’s a long pause, and they listen to Obito heaving a deep sigh, followed by the shuffling of him getting to his feet. He evidently hesitates, but his footsteps gradually disappear, cut off by the sound of the entrance door slamming shut. Sakura briefly wonders why he didn’t go into the apartment next door, before reminding herself that she shouldn’t, couldn’t and _doesn’t_ care.

She ignores the tiny voice that tells her that she’s only lying to herself.

Naruto stays for a short while longer before he departs with the promise to return to finish off the ice cream. Sakura apologises for ruining his shirt with her tears and he shrugs it off with a wide grin. ‘There’s worse stuff I could have on it,’ he tells her. She doesn’t dare to asking him to elaborate. As he steps over the doorway, he looks at her and his smile is softer now, ‘he’d never hurt you, you know.’

And before she can think of a reply, he’s gone, following Obito’s footsteps out of the entrance door. She watches it swing shut behind him before she retreats inside the apartment, triple checking the door is locked shut.

When she lays in bed later that night, thinks about what Naruto had said, and despite herself, a small part of her desperately hopes he’s right.

๑

It is on Wednesday when she sees Obito again. She’s sat at her desk, upholding her very poor job at _not_ thinking about him. Every free moment she has, her thoughts seem to drift towards how pitiful he’d sounded when he’d come to her door the other day. She also thinks of Naruto’s promise— _he’d never hurt you—_ and despised the fact that she so easily trusts his words. She also refuses to admit that hearing that dreaded nickname _has_ been missed.

And when she’s not thinking of _him_ , she’s doing her best to avoid looking either Ino or Hinata in the eye.

‘ _Seriously, Forehead. What’s with you? You’ve refused lunch for three days now, and to be honest, you kinda look like shit—’_

_‘Yamanaka! The next time I have to tell you to get back to work, you’re fired.’_

It’s been hard work to ignore her increasing guilt, but Hinata has been less overbearing, the raven haired woman eyeing Sakura with a polite smile that is stained with concerned whenever they bump onto each other in the hallway. For the most part, Sakura has somehow managed to uphold the lame excuse of being busy, purposely ignoring her senior’s suspicion-filled glares whenever she catches Sakura rushing into work every morning.

Today is a slow day, unfortunately.

She addresses each patient with as much enthusiasm as she can muster, and she almost believes that she’s doing a good job of it. Until her last patient of the day is kind enough to point out just how _tired_ she looks. Sakura accompanies him to the reception area, teeth gritted with a forced smile. She asks Hinata to book him in for a follow up appointment, sending the man on his way without so much as a goodbye. She pretends that she doesn’t see Hinata’s small frown following her until she disappears out of the Hyuuga’s eye-line.

Back in her office, she slumps into her chair, exhausted. Index fingers pressing to her eyes, she rubs them hard enough that she has to blink black dots from her vision. It’s when she’s packing her bag, ready to make the journey back home, when there is a knock at her door. Glancing up, she sees Hinata’s head poke in through the gap.

‘Ah, Sakura,’ she says softly, her expression almost apologetic. Sakura sighs, already expecting the news of an emergency patient. ‘Tsunade-sama asked me to send in a last minute booking... I know it’s almost closing, but Ino has already gone home, and—’

‘Send them in,’ Sakura huffs, trying her best to hide her irritation. She doesn’t await Hinata’s reply, already turning away to dump her bag back down onto the floor. She’s running her fingers through her hair when she hears the door open again, before it clicks shut. ‘Take a seat,’ she mumbles without turning around. She listens to heavy footsteps crossing the room, before hearing the tell-tale sound of someone sitting down on the cot. Unbuttoning her doctor’s jacket—because she _really_ can’t wait to take it off and finally go home—she turns to face her patient. ‘What can I—?’

Sea-green clashes with obsidian.

Neither of them speak for a long time, not wanting to be the first to break the tense silence. He eyes her with an unreadable expression, dark orbs flitting across her entire form, his stare heating the tips of her ears. She takes the time to look at him too. Automatically, her gaze darts to the wound above his left eye, barely concealing her grimace when she sees the enflamed skin; a clear sign of infection. His tall frame is slouched as he sits on top of the cot, holding his posture in a way that strongly suggests he has another wound hidden somewhere underneath his shirt. She looks down to his hands, making note of how his knuckles have now scabbed over. His leg seems to have improved, she guesses by the way he’s positioned, resting his foot against the ground with ease. A good few minutes have passed by the time her gaze returns to his. He’s already watching her face, eyes endlessly dark. It frustrates her that she’s unable to read his expression, however, his aura is eerily calm, and that only increases her unease. Seeing him is both infuriating and relieving at the same time, and it confuses her.

It is the motion of the door swinging open that interrupts the moment. Tsunade steps into the office, acknowledging Obito with a terse nod. Sakura is bewildered to notice how his body has taken on a rigidity that reflects in his gaze as it snaps to Tsunade. The blonde either ignores, or doesn’t notice, slapping a file onto Sakura’s desk.

‘New patient file,’ she informs, leaving no room to protest, ‘he’ll be in first thing tomorrow.’ She pauses, looking over Sakura’s form. The pinkette doesn’t have to look in a mirror that she looks as bad as she feels. And it seems her senior thinks the same, nose turning up. But she doesn’t comment, much to Sakura’s relief. Instead, Tsunade takes a step towards the door, fingers curling around the handle. She glances from Obito, to Sakura, and back again, ‘I was going to ask you to lock up, but you look like you need—’

‘I can lock up,’ Sakura interrupts, ‘I have a spare key.’

Tsunade uncharacteristically hesitates. ‘Are you sure?’

A nod and a pointed look, ‘this won’t take long,’ she assures her senior. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

It takes a few more moments for Tsunade to give in, although evidently wary of Obito’s presence. She makes a promise to see Sakura in the morning, already barking at poor Hinata, who had obviously been waiting for her, ‘c’mon Hyuuga, let’s get a drink.’

They listen to the fading footsteps and to Hinata’s rushed protest, ‘but Tsunade-sama, it’s only Wednesday—’ Her voice is cut off by the entrance door slamming shut behind her.

Sakura heaves a sigh, nervously running her fingers through her hair once more.

‘Sakura,’ Obito breaks the silence first. She frowns at his addressing her by her actual name. He shifts on the cot, and she prays that he remains sitting, as she doesn’t feel that she’ll be able to fight him off if he aims to hurt her. She turns towards the cabinet, grabbing a fresh pair of latex gloves, snapping them over her hands before she removes the first aid box from its space on the third shelf. ‘Sakura—’ He tries again, not missing the way she flinches at his voice.

‘I have to treat your wounds,’ she hopes her expression remains one of professional stoicism. Her feet feel heavy as she makes her way towards him, placing the medical kit beside him. ‘Trousers,’ she orders, making a show of looking away to give him a sense of privacy. She wills away the blush that threatens to singe the curves of her cheeks, breath hitching when she hears the buckle of his belt thumping against the floor. Once she deems it safe to turn around, she does so, pointedly avoiding his eyes as she gets to work.

The older wound is finally close to healing, the scabbing formed perfectly around the stitching that has now begun to fall out in places. She pokes around it with a gentle finger, pleased that he doesn’t seem affected. To be safe, she gives it a clean, deciding that a gauze isn’t needed. To her chagrin, her breath pauses when she reluctantly asks him if he has any other wounds. He appears to notice that she’s stalling the inevitable examination of the infection above his left eye, but doesn’t call her out on it. Instead, he guides her to the minor stab wounds he’d discovered after a trip to the gym with Gai, who had then proceeded to shriek about it in front of everyone. Obito had thrown his shirt back on, cussing under his breath.

She makes quick work of cleaning those wounds too, the deepest one receiving a stitch, that she covers with a small gauze. She tries to not let her gaze linger over the muscles that move under his skin when she instructs him to sit up straight. But nonetheless, she stares at the burn scars that seem to envelop the entirety of the right side of his body. And then, before she can stop herself, her fingers are brushing against the marred, yet surprisingly soft skin. Obito’s breathing seems to still, his spine straightens, now rigid as he sits before her.

Frowning, Sakura’s palm flattens against the span of his back, his skin hot to her touch. She’s unsure if that’s his natural body temperature, or if he’s blushing. But then she sees the reddened tips of his ears and her frown deepens. She removes her hand, taking a step back.

Behind him, she swallows down the thick lump that has formed at the back of her throat. It takes several seconds for her to round the cot, standing before him.

She doesn’t notice the twitching of his hands, already preparing cotton wool and a bottle of saline wash. Ensuring that she moves as gently as possible, she presses the cotton wool to his left eye. Grabbing his hand and guiding it to hold the cotton in place, she grabs the saline in one hand, an antiseptic wipe in the other. Cleaning out the dried blood, and the thin layer of pus that has formed underneath the crackled scabbing, she uses the saline to flush out the infected areas. It wets his skin, and runs down her hand, but she doesn’t blink twice, already wiping his skin dry with a spare piece of cotton.

He sits, silent, appearing to appreciate her attentions.

His uncovered eye is unblinking as he watches her every move. She feels his gaze wandering across each feature of her face— _did he—? Did he just lick his lips?_ Her hand pauses. The corner of his mouth tilts upwards. Against her will, her cheeks enflame. She feels him lean a little closer and she almost drops the butterfly stitch that she’s attempting to stick in place. Feeling stupid, she works as fast as she can possibly move, hands shaking when she sticks the third stitch in place before wiping it clean one last time. Quickly, she throws away the soiled cotton and antiseptic wipes, and the latex gloves, all into the bin. In her haste, she also accidentally throws away the bottle of saline, but she’s too mortified by her mistake to retrieve in whilst Obito still sits before her. She packs the rest of the kit away, locking the box shut.

When she finally takes a step back, standing just out of his reach, she feels as if she can breathe properly, her chest deflating as she exhales.

She turns to put the box away, not noticing Obito’s hand that shoots out and grabs a hold of her wrist. Startled, she yelps loudly, and the first aid kit tumbles to the floor. Obito’s grip tightens, steadying her, but his action only fills her with unease. Wrenching her wrist free, she cradles it to her chest, eyeing him warily.

Defeated, Obito’s hand falls to his side. Brows furrowing, he asks, ‘are you scared of me?’

Anger brims to the surface of her skin, and Sakura jabs her index finger in his face as she spits, ‘you drugged us.’

He bristles.

His lack of denial hurts more than she wants to admit.

‘Technically,’ he drawls, ‘we drugged your friends— _you_ were left out of it—and it was Madara, not me.’

She doesn’t care, she wants to say, but instead, she asks, ‘what’d you mean ‘left out of it’?’ Her arms crossed over her chest.

He shrugs. ‘It was the safest way to move them without compromising them. Madara did you a favour.’

Agitated, Sakura scoffs at him, ‘you actually believe that?’ She blinks away the tears that threaten to fall. ‘I left my purse behind in that bar, with my keys, my phone _and_ my wallet—I had to borrow my own spare key from under the mat to get into my home the next day, and I’ve spent the past week and a half looking over my shoulder in case the police decide to show up. I spent most of last week panicking because I thought I was going to lose my job and then I lost your knife, so I thought I’d got you into trouble too, not that you don’t deserve it because honestly, I think you’re _insane_. And the —what—? What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing!?’

Obito brandishes his knife, having bent over to tug it from the back pocket of his jeans. He eyes her, tone cautious as he says, ‘the police won’t be comin’ for you. It’s all been covered.’ He acts as if he doesn’t see her flinching when he twiddles the knife between his fingers, ‘and as you can see... Rin isn’t lost.’

Sakura blinks once, twice. ‘...You named your knife?’

He hums, eyeing the weapon with a wry smile. ‘Mhm... she’s _very_ good at stabbing people in the back.’

Somehow, she feels as if he’s not talking about the blade, noting the faraway look in his eyes. And then he blinks it away, flicking the blade shut and letting it drop to land on the pile of clothes by his feet. Suddenly, Sakura realises that he’s only dressed in his boxers and a pair of socks. Clearing her throat, she tears her gaze away.

‘I still don’t have my purse... and you still owe my friends an apology.’

Obito glares, ‘your friends were lucky that Madara was feeling nice that night. He could have easily left them to die.’

His stoic expression is genuine and the corners of Sakura’s mouth turns downwards.

‘Drugging them probably wasn’t the best way, no,’ Obito admits, eyes softening at the sorrowful look on the pinkette’s face. ‘But it was the fastest. A few minutes later and your friends _would_ have died that night.’ He reaches to run his fingers through his hair, pulling at the short tresses, ‘as for your purse, you could’ve just gone back for it, you know?’

Perplexed, Sakura frowns.

Obito chuckles, sensing her confusion. ‘Place is empty now. No one would’ve noticed you goin’ in.’

‘That’s breaking and entering, Obito.’

‘Nothing wrong with that.’

‘It’s literally illegal.’

‘So? I do it all the time.’

He barks out a laugh at her scowl.

There’s a moment of silence.

‘I still despise you for drugging my friends.’

‘...I know.’

‘And for knocking me out. _Literally_.’

‘I know.’

‘I honestly wish... I don’t know... I-I can’t be around you... any of you.’ A pause. ‘I could lose my job... my job is everything to me. I worked really hard and—’

His hands reach out to take a hold of hers. Their fingers entwined, he rubs the back of her hand with his thumb, his skin warm against hers. ‘I know, doll.’

Her face falls, facade crumbling. He watches the liquid forming in the corners of her eyes, despite the fact that she hurriedly tries to blink the tears away.

She squeezes his fingers gently, and her eyes meet his. ‘I _am_ glad you’re okay, though,’ she says, tone nothing but sincere.

Obito manages a small smile.

There’s a brief pause.

It’s unclear of who moves first, but in one moment, she’s desperately trying not to cry, and in the next, they’re kissing. They connect with a clash of uneven breaths, unfamiliar tongues battling to find their place, tasting new territory. His hands leave hers, arms circling around her waist until he’s pulling, her weight suddenly settled on his lap. Perched upon him, her thighs encase his, her hands scrambling to find purchase on his shoulders. Her tongue traces his top lip, tickling along his Cupid’s bow, darting into his mouth to circle against his own. He groans at the sensation, his left hand coming to grip at her thigh, pulling her flush against him. Her fingers scrape across the base of his skull and he breaks their kiss to release a gut wrenching groan.

‘Fuck,’ his arms tighten around her waist. His breath pants across her cheek, warm and enticing. He presses his lips to hers again, kissing her until her head spins. She shivers when his fingers dance across her thigh, answering her desperate mewl with a breathless moan of his own.

It’s when she feels his arousal throbbing against her thigh, when she stills. Immediately sensing her hesitation, Obito freezes, lips parting from hers.

He leans back just enough to see her face clearly, chest tightly constricting at the sight of her flushed cheeks and lust-hazed orbs. But despite her thighs clamped tightly around his, he’d be blind to not see the panic slowly etching itself onto her face. He tucks a loose strand behind her ear. ‘What’s wrong?’

Sakura grimaces, ‘I-I can’t... we can’t—we _shouldn’t_ be doing this.’ She curses herself for getting herself into this situation yet again. ‘If my boss found out—’

‘Then don’t tell her?’ Obito looks at her as if the solution is obvious. Which, she supposes it is. But just days ago, she’d vowed to stay away from all Uchiha. Particularly the one she’s currently straddling upon the cot in her office. It appears that promise has been thrown out of the window. ‘No one’s gotta know,’ he promises her, hands gently stroking along either side of her rib cage, tickling.

His words strike a nerve.

_No one has to know._

Swallowing, she averts her eyes from his, ‘that’s what K—’

Obito’s expression sours, ‘don’t say his name.’

Sakura doesn’t dare ask for the reason why, her brows pinching together, dumbfounded by his reaction. She’d assumed they were best friends; had she been wrong?

‘Is everything okay?’

‘It’s fine,’ Obito bites out, eyes flickering down towards where he knows his blade sits on the ground. ‘I just don’t want to talk about... don’t compare me to _him._ Please.’

There’s something so desperate and raw in his expression that it makes Sakura’s entire form relax against him. She surveys the vulnerability that bites his bottom lip, that flicks his gaze from hers, that has his body stiffening beneath hers. She’s taken aback. In the short time she’s known him, she’d never taken Obito for someone who battled with something as trivial as insecurities.

Whether it is actually caused by Kakashi directly (which, judging by Obito’s reaction to the silver haired man being mentioned, she guesses is the case) or if it’s something he generally deals with, Sakura can’t say for sure. But whatever the reason, it’s obvious it affects him both mentally and physically.

‘Just... aha,’ his laugh is humourless, head thrown back as his eyes close. He’s frowning again and Sakura wants to use her thumb to smooth out the wrinkle between his brows. ‘Just... for one night... let it be me, hm?’ His eyes are blinking open to watch her again, the dark irises seeming to draw her right into the palm of his hand. ‘Think you can want me enough for one night?’

All earlier doubts she had, promptly disappear at the sight of the ghost of the pained smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

She immediately kisses it away.

It takes him a few seconds to reciprocate, hesitating just enough to give her time to change her mind.

She knows that she’s going back on her promise, one that she _should_ probably stick with. But she can’t help it.

This is different to how it had felt with Kakashi, she can’t help but notice. The occupant of number 34 had made it very obvious that sex would only occur between them as an exchange for medical help. And whilst she is in no way obligated to remain loyal to a man she barely knows, she briefly wonders if that deal will be cancelled upon her currently making out with Obito in the middle of her workspace.

With Obito, however, this feels much more natural. She may not have known him for much longer than his silver haired friend, but tonight isn’t about an exchange.

He wants her, she dares to think, just for the sake of wanting her, his teeth nipping their way down her collarbone. His tongue is quick to soothe the abused skin, just before he kisses and sucks his mark into her skin. This elicits a breathless moan, followed by a shudder when he pushes her jacket from her shoulders, allowing the fabric to billow to the ground. Her top is next, thrown over her shoulder quickly, mouths finding each other as Obito’s fingers fumble to tug her leggings down her legs.

‘Fucking—stupid fucking things,’ he cusses when he can’t get them past her knees. Sakura giggles, sliding from his lap to stand on wobbly legs. She steps out of her shoes, the leggings joining the pile on the floor, and he takes the opportunity to kick his boxers down his legs and onto the floor. Erection stiff against his abdomen, he reaches to slowly palm the shaft, eyes heavily lidded, glued to the pinkette who is shyly shimmying out of her bra and underwear. He groans at the sight of the slight curve of her breasts, following the gentle slopes of her hips, down between her legs, where he spots the tiny patch of neatly trimmed rose-coloured pubic hair. His cock twitches and Sakura’s eyes immediately dart to pay him the same attentions, and Obito actually feels his cheeks heat under her stare. He bites his bottom lip when he notices the subtle rubbing of her thighs and he instantly reaches for her, ‘c’mere.’

She nears him, but before he can pull her onto his lap, she kneels. He sits up a little straighter, breath hitching when he feels her hands sliding up the inside of his thighs. She nudges them apart and Obito can’t stop his cock from twitching again at the sensation of her fingers brushing against his hips. He swallows thickly, her small hand coming to wrap around the base, tugging cautiously. Experimenting, she repeats this, and then her wrist suddenly twists and Obito’s hips jerk upwards. He grunts, fists clenching into the thin blanket laid out over the cot below him.

And then her mouth envelops his erection, sucking him in and expelling him with a saliva induced slurp. The sound makes his toes curl and his abdomen clenches in an attempt to stop himself from thrusting. She swallows as much of him as she can, humming around his length when his fingers come to tangle between the tresses of her hair. One particular hard suck forces a sharp cry from his lips, her throat relaxing enough to slide him in a little further. Through gritted teeth, he moans her name, his head tilted to the side as he battles to keep his eyes open enough to watch her every move. He slips from between her lips and she chokes in a lungful of air, mouth slick with saliva. When she swallows him down the next time, her eyes water, thick black curls tickling the tip of her nose. She guzzles around him, and Obito swears he hears himself sob out loud. Her head moves so tantalisingly slow that he groans and she feels his cock twitch against the roof of her mouth.

‘That’s it—fuck, a-ah, hngh, fuck—that’s it, baby,’ he praises, voice strained with arousal. ‘You’re so good—god, fuckin’ hell—so good... so so good for me, Sakura.’

She moans in response, thighs pressed tightly together at the sound of his voice. And when she cups his balls, gently squeezing, he cries out her name again, and it travels all the way straight down to her throbbing clit. She moans around the tip of his cock, tongue swiping against the underside, to tease the bundle of nerves. This earns her a loud yelp of surprise, followed by a groaned curse. His hips roll upwards and Sakura sucks everything he gives. He thrusts gently, as to ensure he doesn’t choke her, and when he starts to feel the familiar coil beginning to unravel, he abruptly reels back, cock falling from her swollen lips. He’s panting as he tugs her onto his lap, barely able to catch his breath before she’s pressing her mouth to his throat, licking, biting and sucking.

Dazed by her attentions, his fingers clumsily find their way between her legs. Another groan is drawn from deep within his chest, ‘so wet... all for me,’ his chuckle is breathless. When his fingers circle her clit, it is her turn to cry out against the rapid pulse in his neck.

‘All... for you,’ she trembles against him, pressing harder into the palm of his hand. Her words make his stomach twist with a familiar feeling and he hides the heat of his cheeks by nuzzling the crook of her neck. She runs against his hand, urging his fingers to move faster and faster and faster, right until—

Her orgasm is so sudden, so powerful, Obito doesn’t expect it at all when she suddenly shudders against him, his name bursting past her lips in a needy whine. Her fingernails dig into his shoulders and he pulls her closer, grinds his cock against the slick between her thighs. She keens, fingers grasping his hair as she jerks his head back far enough for her to crush her mouth to his. Their kiss is sloppy, and he can taste his own musk on the roof of her mouth, exhaling a low groan through his nostrils. She responds by rolling her hips against his, and his fingers come to grasp her thighs. And then he’s lifting her up just enough that he can reach—

They both exhale as his girth sinks into her heat. Obito almost chokes at how _snug_ he fits inside, her inner walls sucking his cock in further, all the way until he bottoms out. It takes her several seconds to relax against him, but for Obito, he’s struggling. She’s so warm and wet and hot and her nipples are brushing against his chest, his sack pressed taut against her backside. His lips are kissing along her collarbones in an attempt to distract himself, because he honestly doesn’t think he’s going to last much longer.

He chokes on his own breath when she begins to rock against him, eyes squeezing shut as he hugs her closer, arms curled around her waist. A hand braces against the small of her back and he shifts his legs until the heels of his feet are digging into the thin mattress. And then, he thrusts into her once, twice, gradually building up to such a pace that the room is quick to fill with the thickening scent of their arousal. At some point, they shift until Obito is lying on his back, Sakura curled over him, her lips sucking at his neck once more.

‘Gods, baby,’ he grunts, hips jerking faster, the slick sound of skin connecting with skin echoing off the walls. The sound makes his cock throb inside her, Obito moaning as he revels in the feeling of her pussy clenching around him as she nears her second peak. ‘You close?’ He asks, even though he already knows the answer. She mewls his name into the crook of his neck, crying out in bliss when he grips her hips and grinds her down, hard. ‘F-Fuck,’ he stutters, the familiar building up of his own orgasm announcing its close arrival by a twinge in his groin. ‘I’m gonna cum, baby,’ he whispers in her ear, grunting when he feels her trying to match his thrusts with her own. ‘That’s it baby... m’gonna fill you with my cum... I bet you’d like that—hngh, fuck yeah—wouldn’t you? Tell me... tell me where you want my—mmph!’

She kisses him, hard.

Hips grinding against Obito’s, she can already feel the mess they’ve made, and it clings to her thighs, dripping down the curve of his ball-sack. It’s sticky and it’s warm and she doesn’t think she’s ever been so turned on by the sound of such a filthy act. Yet, when her lips part from Obito’s, she breathes his name and asks him to fill her with his seed. His response is a guttural growl and the increased pace of his hips snapping against her own. It doesn’t take long for her to come undone, his eyes glued to her face as she screams out his name, her entire body flushed as her orgasm racks through her. He soon follows, crying out as he milks into her, his hips jerking one last time before he collapses. Sakura slumps, her body blissfully limp on top of his.

Tiredly, he traces the curve of her spine with his fingers, tugging on the ends of her hair. He murmurs her name and she lifts her head to peer at him.

The soft smile that graces his lips is enough to force her breath to hitch in the back of her throat. She allows him to kiss her gently, and when he asks if he can stay with her tonight, she surprises both herself and him when she doesn’t hesitate to say yes.

And when they finally gather the energy to dress each other and make the journey back to Sakura’s apartment, neither seem to notice the pair of eyes that watches them from the shadows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed!!  
> \- please show support by leaving a kudos or even a comment; i'd love to hear what you think. 
> 
> \- also, i don't know if any of you are narusasu fans, but i've just started writing a(nother) one-shot smut about those guys, so hopefully that should be up during the weekend, so keep a look out if you'd like to read!


	8. はち

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i do not own any of Naruto.  
> \- hihihi, readers!! i received a lot of comments on the last chapter, and even though i've had half of this chapter sat in my notes for the past few months, i was motivated to finally finish it because someone begged me to update, so here is a very, very late update, thanks to you guys :')  
> \- thank you to everyone who has commented, given a kudos, and bookmarked my story - 2020 has been a hard year, and it always cheers me up when i see that you guys are enjoying the story, even if it takes me forever to update. i really appreciate your support!  
> \- wishing everyone a merry christmas and i hope that 2021 is better for us all; stay safe!

Kakashi has always thought himself as a good judge of character. Whilst others have often told him that they struggle to read the face oft hidden behind the black mask, he is confident that he can easily decipher those around him.

And if someone had asked him a year ago—after over fifteen years of friendship—he wouldn’t have hesitated to bet that he knows almost everything about his best friend.

Yet, recently, whenever he sees Obito’s face, whenever he tries his best to decode the meaning behind the Uchiha’s increasingly anxious-inducing behaviour, he is drawn to a blank. Obito has always been notorious for wearing his heart on his sleeve via his actions and words—to Kakashi, at least—despite the unreadable stoicism that is often glued to his face. But as of late, as each day passes, Kakashi is repeatedly left staring after the dark haired male, doing his best to ignore the unsettled clenching of his stomach as he does so.

Their spat just the previous week has also not helped with his predicament.

Kakashi has lost count of the times he and Obito have fought—both physically and verbally—and made up over the years.

Their last major one had been almost killed Kakashi. Literally. The image of a blood-soaked Obito, voice hoarse from screaming, hunched over Kakashi’s limp body, knee digging painfully into the silver haired male’s chest, often torments Kakashi on sleepless nights. The haunted look in Obito’s red raw eyes is something he wishes to never see again. And even though he’s silently grateful for each morning he wakes, if he’s completely honest with himself, he’s unsure of how he feels about Obito’s last words to him that night.

_One day, I’ll make sure you understand what it feels to continue living with a heart that no longer beats. That, I can promise you._

Although it has been five years passed, daily, Kakashi looks at Obito and wonders when he will uphold his promise. Sometimes, he fears it. Especially on the days when Obito looks at him, eyes glazed over as if he’s looking right through him. And more often than not, Kakashi silently hopes that the day will never come.

But despite the fact that Obito has forgiven him for _much_ worse, Kakashi is stumped that after an entire week, Obito still isn’t talking to him for not turning up to the fight they’d been planning for almost an entire month beforehand.

In all honesty, Kakashi had fallen asleep. And against the exasperated warning that both Yamato and Genma had given, Kakashi had stupidly blurted this out to Obito in an attempt to get the Uchiha to give him some sort of response. However, the reaction he received came in the form of a bruised ego when he watched Obito’s upper lip curl into a sneer, followed by Madara’s front door being slammed shut in his face so roughly that Kakashi had been sure he could have tasted the scarlet red paint on the tip of his tongue. Bewilderment hidden behind his mask, he’d waited until Madara himself had taken pity upon him and joined him on the front step.

‘Give him time,’ was the advice Kakashi hadn’t asked for when he’d declined the offer of a ride home. And when Kakashi had dared to ask how long, Madara’s vacant stare had been uncanny in its similarity to his nephew’s.

Kakashi had returned home, nails digging into the palms of his hands.

His mood had soured even further when Yamato had recounted his run-in with Sakura. And when Kakashi attempts to check on her, he doesn’t know why he’s irritated when she ignores him. _He barely knows her_ , he reminds himself, despite the fact that he has to repeatedly convince himself that she owes him absolutely nothing. She has no obligation to answer the door to him, to Obito, to _anyone_.

And so on Wednesday night, when he’s making the journey to the arranged team meeting—assigned to Genma’s apartment this time—he’s confused when he sees a familiar figure heading towards Sakura’s place of work. Hands stuffed into the front pocket of his jumper, the hood pulled far over his eyes, his trainers scuff the concrete as he quickly spins on his heel. From a safe distance, he follows, taking advantage of the shadows that are provided by the disappearing sun. From under his hood, he watches Obito’s tall frame entering the building, entire body rigid as he stalks past the threshold. Not too long after, a familiar blonde exits, accompanied by a ravenette who sports a pair of uncomfortable looking heels. They don’t notice him, clambering into a BMW, painted an obnoxiously bright orange colour. Kakashi frowns as he watches them drive away. His eyes drift back toward the building and he waits a while.

Due to his own lacking, he realises that he has failed to keep up with the status on Obito’s relationship with the pinkette. What had started as a potential-enemy-stake-out, Kakashi now begins to question if the Uchiha has formed an attachment to the young doctor.

It wouldn’t be entirely implausible, Kakashi thinks, given Obito’s past.

Rin’s name comes to mind, accompanied by a flinch that he disguises by leaning against the wall, gaze aimed towards a star-less sky, a sigh sagging his shoulders. 

Five years is a long time, he thinks, the corners of his mouth turning downwards as he recalls the words she’d whispered to him that night.

_Please forgive me._

He’d wanted to, he remembers, eyes squeezing shut as he exhales. He’d so desperately wanted to forgive her, but it wasn’t just Obito who had been hurt by her absence. Kakashi has spent five years trying to justify her betrayal, and with every fairytale excuse he can think of, comes the daunting reality that she simply just didn’t love them enough.

She didn’t love _him_ enough.

But no matter how many nights he spent lying awake, wondering if there was anything he could have done to change the past, to wipe away his best friend’s heartache—even to rid himself of his own guilt—Kakashi knows that as much as he has suffered, Obito suffers more.

And that is the reason why he straightens his spine, glances at the door, and tells himself that this time, Obito deserves the chance to break the rules. Even if he was the one who set the rules in the first place. Kakashi then supposes that it was himself who had broken the rules first.

But just as he’s about to slink away into the night, the door opens and Kakashi watches a red cheeked Obito exit the building, followed by a disheveled Sakura, who hurriedly locks the door behind them. She glances down the path, Kakashi only just managing to duck out of view, before he hears their footsteps begin to fade out of earshot. Only when he deems it safe enough, does he step out onto the pathway, eyes glued to their retreating shadows until they round the corner and then they are gone.

Kakashi continues his journey to Genma’s apartment, ignoring the tightening of his lungs, his fists curled.

For the first time in years, Obito doesn’t appear at the team meeting.

๑

Sakura calls in sick for the rest of the week as soon as she awakens to the sight of a sleeping Obito the following morning.

Hinata’s tone is one of concern as Sakura speaks in a hushed tone, mobile phone pressed to her bare shoulder, standing on tip-toes to lean closer to her bathroom mirror. She examines her neck, the skin marred and blooming with bruises that make Sakura’s stomach twist with nerves as she recalls exactly how she received them.

‘I’ll be back on Monday, I promise.’

She presses her index finger to a particularly large bruise just under her ear, wincing.

Hinata sighs down the line, voice timid as she confesses, ‘we’re worried about you... even though she will not admit it, I know Tsunade-sama is too.’

Sakura feels guilt gnaw at her, her brows pinching together.

‘I will not ask you what is happening,’ Hinata pauses, and then speaks in a rushed voice, ‘but we’re here when you’re ready to—’

Suddenly, her voice cuts off abruptly and then another, much louder voice snaps, ‘Forehead! Where the _hell_ are you?!’

Sakura knows that her next action is selfish, but she honestly doesn’t want to deal with Ino’s interrogation, especially when she hears a certain dark haired male shift in his sleep. Peeking her head around the doorway, she listens to Ino shout her name once more, before she moves the device from her ear, promptly ending the phone-call. For a moment, she stands in the doorway, and stares down at the device as if she can’t believe what she’s done.

No matter how much the blonde has aggravated her over the years they’ve been friends, Sakura has never once put the phone down on her before. And it seems that Ino can’t believe it either, as not even a minute later, Sakura’s mobile is ringing again.

Dazed, she switches the device off.

Obito shifts in the bed again until he’s lying on his stomach, the sheets tangled between his legs, hair falling into his eyes, his right cheek pressed into the pillow. Sakura watches him sleep, his jaw slack, brows pinching a little before they ease back into place. This is the most relaxed she’s seen him, she thinks, and wonders how many people get to see him exactly like this. After a moment, she climbs back into bed as quietly as she can. She disturbs him enough that he exhales a soft grunt as she shuffles closer, her cheek carefully avoiding the stitching as it comes to rest on his back. Her right arm is tucked to her side, her left stretching out to touch his shoulder, her fingers dancing across his skin, tickling. He twitches, and she stills until she’s sure he’s settled. Eventually, she stretches again, reaching for his hand. She’s already dozing off, unconscious enough to not realise that he squeezes her hand when she threads their fingers together.

When she wakes the second time, he’s still asleep beneath her. They’ve somehow shifted so that he’s now lying on his back, Sakura sprawled on top of him, his fingers buried in the tresses of her hair. She doesn’t realise this until she tries to lift her head, only to discover that she can’t. She bites back a smile, deciding that the sun is bright enough to keep her awake this time. She’s just about to untangle his fingers from her hair when the sound of a fist knocking on her apartment door makes her tense against Obito’s body. The knocking is loud, loud enough that Sakura immediately realises just who is behind the door. Startled, she rushes into a sitting position, muffling her yelp of pain when her hair rips free from Obito’s grasp.

He’s awoken, bolting upright at the sound, eyes wild until they focus on Sakura, who immediately presses her palm to his mouth, using her free hand to touch a finger to her own lips. He exhales through his nostrils, shoulders still tense as his eyes dart toward the bedroom door.

‘Haruno!’

Sakura winces, her grasp tightening on Obito, who is as rigid as she is.

Down the hall and on the other side of the apartment door, Tsunade furiously barks her name once more. Sakura almost gets out of her bed to answer her, just to stop the woman from punching a hole through the door. But suddenly, there’s a pause, and Tsunade’s voice is much quieter, so much softer that Sakura chooses to risk moving from the bed—pausing to wrap the duvet around her body—and shuffling into the living room. Obito is quick to join her, Sakura’s cheeks heated as she realises that he’s still naked.

But when she glances up at his face, his eyes are glued to the door, boring into the wood as if he can see right through it.

And that’s when she hears Kakashi’s voice, and although she can’t make out his words, she hears Tsunade’s response perfectly clear; ‘Hatake, I don’t give a flying shit if she’s with the Lord’s Son himself,’ she snaps, ‘if I find one hair on her head is out of place, you can kiss your precious little truce goodbye, _and_ remove my foot from your throat whilst you’re at it!’

‘Truce?’ Sakura ghosts, frowning. Obito ignores her.

‘If you would just—’ Kakashi isn’t given the chance to finish his sentence, as Tsunade slams her fist against the door so harshly that Sakura swears she sees the hinges rattle. In fear of her door actually breaking, she takes a step forward, only to freeze when Tsunade calls her name again.

‘Haruno,’ the blonde almost sounds tired. ‘Just open the door. _Please_.’ There’s another pause, and Sakura shuffles a little closer, hand outstretched. Only, Tsunade’s next question has her halting once more, ‘Sakura... can you at least tell me if are you safe? The Uchiha, has he—?’

Obito beats her to the door, wrenching it open so fast that Sakura wearily eyes the hinges again.

There’s a long moment of silence as the four of them regard each other, until three pairs of eyes land on Obito, who suddenly remembers just how naked he is. He uses one large hand in an attempt to cover his crotch, a poor job in Sakura’s eyes, because if she tilts her a head just a little more to the left, she’s sure that she can—

Tsunade clears her throat, loudly, matching Sakura’s sheepish expression with a scowl.

‘We need to have a talk,’ she tells the pinkette, her brash tone leaving no room for argument. Pushing past Obito, she enters the apartment, and Sakura barely gets a glimpse of Kakashi’s face before her mentor kicks the door shut behind her. Tsunade does not wait for an invite into the living room, barking over her shoulder, ‘clothes. Now.’

The pair obey, Sakura hurriedly pulling an oversized t-shirt over her head and shoving her legs into a pair of underwear, followed by shorts. In the living room, she lowers herself into the settee, hands clammy as she clasps them together. When Obito emerges from the bedroom, he’s clad in his clothes from the night before, hair ruffled, and Sakura has to avert her gaze to avoid staring. Tsunade looks less than impressed, her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. She positions herself in the armchair so that she faces Sakura directly.

Completely ignoring Obito’s presence, she asks again, ‘are you safe?’

Sakura notes the rigidity in Obito’s spine, his fists curling. She glances at him, but his stare is focused on the blonde before him, dark orbs unblinking. Palms clammy, she settles for clasping her hands together and pressing them between her knees. Nervously, she glances between the Uchiha and her stony faced mentor, who impatiently awaits her answer. Clearing her throat, Sakura nods, allowing a gentle upwards tilt of the corners of her mouth. ‘I am.’

Tsunade’s gaze is scrutinising. Her frown does not waver. Sakura watches, heart in mouth, as Tsunade reaches into her shoulder-strap bag, and pulls out a familiar looking purse.

Sakura feels both relieved and panic-stricken at the same time.

Honey coloured eyes flick towards Obito, whose expression now resembles boredom. It’s almost as if he’s not surprised at all at the sight of Sakura’s purse, now placed neatly upon the surface of the coffee table.

‘As you can see,’ Tsunade starts, tone clipped, ‘the request was fulfilled.’

There’s a look of understanding that is passed between the two of them, and Sakura struggles to decipher the meaning behind it.

‘Request?’ She repeats.

Obito’s lips part, his gaze dark, silently warning. Tsunade beats him to it, her hardened stare making Sakura feel very, _very_ small, ‘all of your belongings are inside.’

Sakura whispers her gratitude, although she feels very confused. Pointing an index finger towards the table, she starts to ask, ‘how did you—?’

‘Like I said,’ Tsunade interrupts brusquely, eyes narrowed, ‘the request was fulfilled.’

‘Yes, but—’

‘You’ll get the payment on Friday,’ it is Obito who interrupts this time. His expression has not changed, but his entire body is stiff. He ignores Sakura’s questioning look, his eyes squinting slightly as Tsunade tilts her head in acknowledgement.

Irritated, Sakura chews the inside of her cheek, gaze fixated onto the coffee table.

‘Haruno,’ Tsunade sighs, drawing the pinkette’s eyes up to meet her own, ‘I’ll ask again—are you safe?’

Obito visibly bristles and he’s immediately on the defence, ‘I wouldn’t—’

‘The last time I checked, your name wasn’t Sakura, so therefore I’m not asking you, _Uchiha_ ,’ Tsunade sneers his last name like it leaves a bad taste in her mouth. Obito’s only response is a tightening of his jaw—something which Sakura _definitely_ shouldn’t be staring at—and a low rumble of his chest as he mutters something incoherent under his breath. His arms come to cross over his chest and he pointedly turns his chin away, choosing to glare out of the window. Tsunade’s attention returns to Sakura, a thin blonde brow arching in question. 

Reluctantly, Sakura asks, ‘did Ino say something?’

Tsunade doesn’t even have to say a word for Sakura to understand that her guess is correct. Because, of course, she should have guessed that Ino wouldn’t forgive her for putting the phone down without so much as a word.

‘I’m fine,’ Sakura settles for a simple answer, silently hoping that it’ll suffice.

But of course, it doesn’t.

Tsunade glares, warning, ‘do not take me for a fool, Haruno. I have known you since you were a child; you cannot lie to me.’ There’s a short pause as the blonde watches the pinkette grimace. ‘Your friends are worried, and after your absolute shit-show of a performance at work this week,’ she pretends to not see Sakura flinch, ‘I have no choice but to empathise with them.’

Leaning back in her seat, Sakura looks as if she’s about to burst into tears. But she does not provide a verbal answer. Tsunade clears her throat and decides on a different tactic.

She leans forward in her seat, her hands clasped together, and she says, ‘it has been many years since an Uchiha has called upon my help.’

Sakura’s head immediately snaps up to look at her mentor, bewildered by the seemingly-random revelation. Beside her, Obito side-glances at the blonde from the corner of his eye. Curiously, Sakura looks at him, slightly taken aback when she notices the reddened tips of his ears. He blinks back at her, lips pressed into a flat line, and Tsunade interrupts the exchange by continuing her tale.

‘So imagine my surprise when I receive a late night call,’ the blonde looks utterly offended by this particular detail, ‘to arrange the retrieval of my own student’s purse from a crime scene, because if left there, her life ‘ _may or may not be endangered by the possibility of the discovery of her existence’_.’ The end of her sentence is spat out, aimed towards Obito, whose glare now borders on hostile as his jaw tightens again. ‘Care to elaborate, Uchiha?’

Sakura practically feels the colour drain from her own face. ‘E-Endanger...?’

Her pulse throbs in her neck and she feels her stomach twist uncomfortably.

‘Sakura,’ Tsunade says her name calmly, in a way that Sakura thinks is supposed to be comforting, yet is anything but, ‘do you or do you not feel safe around this man?’

Obito sits up straight, ready to argue, but Tsunade silences him by holding a hand up, her eyes glued to the pale-faced girl before her. Bleary eyed, Sakura peers back at her and asks in a small and very un-Sakura-like voice, ‘what do you mean by ‘endangered’?’

‘After,’ Tsunade promises, and then orders, ‘answer my question.’

‘I, uh... yes?’ Sakura answers, but it’s clear her thoughts are elsewhere. It takes a moment for her to meet Tsunade’s eyes, ‘he’s never made me feel _unsafe_ , at least.’

Obito’s expression is unreadable.

Tsunade’s is one of disapproval. ‘Then, as intelligent as you are, Haruno, you are an idiot.’

‘E-Excuse me?’ Sakura splutters, incredulous.

A long, manicured finger, is thrust in front of her face, aiming toward her cheek. ‘You may think your poor job at covering up _that_ was fooling everyone, but we—especially not _me—_ are not blind.’

Sakura’s hand flies up to cover the almost-healed bruise that has now faded to a sickly yellow colour. In the excitement between this morning and the night before, she had completely forgotten about it. She doesn’t notice that Obito is now staring at the side of her face, her skin tingeing an interesting shade of pink.

‘She wasn’t supposed to be there, was she?’

The question is aimed at Obito, but Sakura recognises that her mentor is referring to the incident at the bar. The memory serves nothing but to make her feel nauseous and she squirms in her seat.

‘No.’ Obito’s voice is low, careful.

‘We just wanted go out for drinks—’ Sakura isn’t sure why she feels the need to defend the brooding dark haired man, but does so anyway. ‘Well, I actually wanted to go home, but Ino and Tenten insisted, and then—’ And then she spiels an entire recount of what happened, the words spilling out before she can stop them. Surprisingly, both Tsunade and Obito listen to her every word, even when her tongue stumbles as she recalls bumping into Yamato, or when she pauses after admitting that she’d been terrified of losing her job. When she finally runs out of things to say, her chest heaves and her face crumbles before she can hide her tears behind a curtain of pink tresses. Frustrated, she presses the heels of her hands flat against her eyes, flinching ever so slightly when she feels the heat of Obito’s palm touching her back in an attempt to comfort her.

‘Doll,’ he coos, and even Tsunade doesn’t have the heart to ridicule or scoff at the ridiculous nickname, not when she watches how it easily calms Sakura’s spluttering chest to a normal exhale. It takes a few moments for the pinkette to look up, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks flushed. Obito has moved noticeably closer, and Sakura’s body relaxes enough so that her shoulder presses against his.

‘Sakura,’ Tsunade’s voice demands her full attention, and Sakura gives her exactly that. The Senju’s face reads a look of regret—for what, Sakura isn’t sure—and she hesitates just enough to share a knowing look with Obito, who regards it with an annoyed clenching of his jaw. ‘Haruno,’ Tsunade starts again, ‘I need you to listen to me _very_ carefully.’ She points a finger at Obito, who doesn’t even attempt to hide his sneer, ‘as much as you may think that he has helped you, he— _and_ that hermit living next door—are not the men you may think they are.’

At this, Obito scoffs out a bitter laugh. Tsunade ignores him.

‘Their world is not one made for someone like you, Haruno. You do not belong in it.’

Sakura feels her eyes beginning to sting once more. She knows that Tsunade is correct, along with the fact that her friendship with Obito has only lasted just over a month, so far. Could she even call it a friendship, she wonders, especially when she thinks back to the night before. Would that then make them friends with benefits? Lovers? No, she doesn’t _love_ him; she doesn’t even really know him. Not really, now that she thinks about it. Gods, what had she been thinking yesterday, jumping into his arms so easily and allowing him to have his way with her? Or, she supposes, it was her who had had her way with him. Or maybe it was a mutual thing? She isn’t even sure why she’s questioning this, but but the heat of his body next to hers is becoming increasingly distracting and she has to force herself to refocus on the conversation that’s happening.

‘She’s safe now,’ Obito hisses out between gritted teeth.

Tsunade argues, ‘did you not hear a word she just said!? She was _seen._ I don’t know about you, but as far as I’m aware, this town isn’t exactly brimming with people with pink hair. As soon as they see her, they’ll know exactly who she is, and—’

‘They won’t know shit, ‘cause I won’t fuckin’ let them see her!’ Obito is now leaning forward in his seat, seething as he glowers at the blonde from over the coffee table.

‘Gods!’ Tsunade’s hands raise to the ceiling, outraged, ‘all of you damned Uchiha are exactly the same! You are so stubborn that you don’t realise that your set-in methods _aren’t_ always the way forward.’ She exhales deeply, ‘let me make one thing clear, Uchiha, I turned a blind eye when you and Hatake showed up at _my_ clinic, _only_ because you’d guaranteed that my staff were to be kept out of the family business.’

At this, Sakura can only blink, stunned.

‘You did... what?’ Pink brows pull together into a frown, ‘you _knew_ about them? About their...?’

‘Of course I know who they are, Haruno,’ Tsunade states matter-of-factly. ‘I know about _everything_ that goes on under the roof of my own clinic.’ She looks pointedly towards Obito, ‘that, and his uncle and I go way back.’

‘His uncle?’

Obito grunts under his breath.

Sakura recalls the wild-haired man, whose eyes she remembers closely resembling both Obito’s and Sasuke’s. The thought of him encourages the memory of the older man purposely drugging her friends, and although Sakura knows his intentions were well, his actions still do not bide well with her. She swallows thickly, before muttering his name, ‘Madara.’

‘Another reason that I do not want you involved with these people,’ Tsunade scoffs, ‘I have known Uchiha Madara since I was around your age. I know most secrets about him that even his own blood relatives do not know of. He is not a man you should be associated with.’

Sakura’s frown deepens, ‘I’m not _associated_. I don’t even know him.’

‘Nonetheless, you’ve been seen with at least one of his nephews, and that is enough,’ Tsunade insists. ‘Madara has a lot of enemies, Haruno. Being seen with members of his family will only drag you into their mess. It isn’t safe—’

‘Am I a target? For these... _enemies_?’ Sakura interrupts to ask, glancing between Obito and her mentor.

It is the former who answers, his hesitation not unnoticed. ‘No,’ his tone is meant to be one of assurance, but he doesn’t even look at her as he aims his stare at Tsunade instead. ‘She’ll be protected.’

She clearly doesn’t believe him, arguing, ‘she wouldn’t need protecting if you had just stuck to the rules of truce.’

‘The truce?’ Sakura ghosts, struggling to comprehend what they are talking about.

‘Another time,’ Tsunade’s tone leaves no room for argument. ‘The point of my coming here is to ensure that you know exactly who you are getting involved with. I know that you’ve had a scare, and because you’re naive to this world, you’ll probably think that it won’t happen again. But listen to me, Haruno—what happened at that bar is _nothing_. Worse things can _and_ will happen, and before you can even think of leaving, it’ll already be too late.’

‘I—’ Sakura doesn’t have the chance to finish her sentence. Tsunade is already standing from her seat, shifting her bag up her shoulder with one hand, and twisting her other wrist to check her watch.

‘No time. I have to go, but I will be checking in,’ she looks at Obito, eyes flashing in warning as she does so. His nose crinkles in response, but otherwise provides no words to part with. When Sakura follows the blonde to the front door, Tsunade pauses, peering at her from over her shoulder. She lowers her head and whispers, ‘Haruno, do not make the same mistake that I did. It’s not too late to step away.’ Frowning, Sakura nods slowly, glancing over her own shoulder to see that Obito is still sat on the settee, eyes heavily lidded but scrutinising as he looks back at her. ‘Take a week from work—you need the break,’ Tsunade does not let her disagree, ‘only return when you have cleared your head. I will hold off Yamanaka until you do.’

Guilt dances around the depths of Sakura’s stomach.

Still, she manages a quiet thanks and with that, Tsunade leaves.

Once she locks the door shut behind her, Sakura trudges her way back into the living room. Obito watches her, gaze dark, leaning back in his seat. Once close enough, Sakura sits next to him, legs curling underneath her as she presses her head against a cushion. For a long while, she looks at the purse on the coffee table, apple-green eyes unblinking.

They sit together in silence, and Obito allows her to think to herself. And for a moment, Sakura doesn’t exactly know what to think. 

She knows that everything Tsunade is correct. Selfishly, it would be much safer for Sakura to remove herself from the equation altogether. Logically, it makes sense. It would also minimise the risk of her friends being involved, too. However, another selfish part of her does not want to walk away. She had made an agreement with Kakashi to treat the members of his group, and as much as it would be easier to tell them to find someone else to take on the responsibility (she’s sure that if she asked Tsunade politely, the blonde would easily find a replacement), she knows she would feel guilty for not only loading it onto someone else, but for also going back on her word.

And her guilt only increases when she finally drags her gaze from the coffee table to look at Obito.

His head is leaning against the back of the settee, his eyes closed as his entire body slouches lazily. His chest rises and falls slowly, almost as if he’s fallen asleep, and Sakura takes the time to scrutinise him. He’s donned the t-shirt he was wearing the night before, muscular arms on display, and before she can stop herself, her fingers are reaching out to touch the marred skin on his right arm. He twitches, as if not expecting her to touch him, and his right eye peels open to look at her. She tickles a pattern up and down his forearm, biting back a smile when his fingers flex upon her brushing the inside of his wrist. He swallows, nostrils flaring as he inhales deeply.

It is he who breaks the silence.

‘I wouldn’t let anythin’ happen to you, you know?’

Her hand stills, and he twists his own to grab at her wrist in order to prevent her from pulling back. She allows him to slip his fingers between her own, squeezing gently. His brows furrow together in the middle.

‘If you wanna have nothin’ to do with us, you’ll still be protected,’ he mumbles the promise, turning her hand over so that he can gently drag his nails against the back of her hand. She watches his frown deepen. ‘‘N’ I know ‘Kashi will do the same.’

At the mention of the silver-haired occupant of apartment number 34, there’s a brief moment of silence. Obito’s eyes flicker across her face as if awaiting her response to hearing Kakashi’s name. But she gives nothing but a slight raise of a pink eyebrow.

‘I just need time to… think, I guess,’ she eventually sighs. ‘Tsunade-sama is right; I’m not supposed to be a part of… this. I could have easily died that night—’ Obito’s fingers tighten around hers, ‘—and if not that night, then it would probably would’ve happened eventually.’ She uses her spare hand to rub at her eyes, tiredly. ‘I’m lucky that Tsunade-sama is my boss; anyone else, and I’d be jobless right now.’

‘Wouldn’t have let that happen,’ Obito grunts, his eyes blinking heavily as if he’s struggling to stay awake. Sakura isn’t surprised; they had been awoken rather rudely.

‘Oh yeah?’ Her smile is small, ‘and how would you have prevented that?’

He shrugs lazily, head slumping back against a cushion. ‘Have my ways,’ he jokes, tone light, but voice thick with exhaustion. It does not take long for him to doze off, lips parting as his jaw slackens. Sakura loses track of time as she watches him sleep, his fingers limp between her own.

Her thumb brushes across his knuckles, and she follows the trickle of goosebumps that rise up the length of his arm. She exhales deeply as she contemplates the past month and a half.

It feels a lot longer than it actually is, and yet in such a short amount of time, she has come to trust the word of not only Obito, but Kakashi—despite the masked man’s ever-changing attitude—too, and although she wonders why the reason is so, she cannot come up with an answer. She knows that she should heed Tsunade’s warning, especially when Sakura does actually agree with the blonde’s opinion on Uchiha Madara, but as her eyes trail across the sharp edge of Obito’s jaw and down the gentle slope of his nose, she can’t help but wonder if he is any different to his uncle.

_Do not make the same mistake that I did._

She doesn’t know the history between Madara and Tsunade—a part of her almost doesn’t _want_ to know—but with a brief glance at the wall that separates her apartment from Kakashi’s, to Obito, and back to the wall again, Sakura knows that she’s already made her decision.

And with one last chest-heaving sigh before she settles down beside Obito, she desperately prays that it’s the right one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed!!  
> \- please show support by leaving a kudos or even a comment; i'd love to hear what you think.  
> \- i have made the decision to also post this story on fanfiction.net, so if you’d prefer to read on there, you may do so :’)


	9. きゅう

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i do not own any of Naruto.  
> \- i know that we're now at the end of january, but i just wanted to wish you all a very happy new year!! i hope everyone is remaining safe and healthy in 2021!  
> \- i just noticed that this story has hit 100 bookmarks and ohmygosh, i don't even know what to say, other than a huge thank you!! it really means a lot that so many of you have supported and saved this story and i'm really so happy that you guys are enjoying my story so far!!  
> \- this chapter has been sat in my notes for most of the month, and i've literally finished the last few paragraphs just before posting this... so tbh, i barely remember what i've written, so rereading this will be fun :') enjoy!  
> \- i'm going to (finally) start updating my other kakasaku au, called 'Primeval', if you guys would like to give that one a try--it only has two chapters so far, but it'd really mean a lot to hear what you think of that too!  
> \- i'm also now on instagram, and my username is 'obitohno', if any of you would like to follow!

It is past midnight when Obito makes his way towards his uncle’s house. The cool air pushes strands of jet-black hair back from his forehead, and it bites his cheeks and stings the tips of his ears, and when he exhales, a cloud of hot air billows from between his lips. His footsteps are slow, calculated, and his ears are carefully listening to every move his pursuer makes.

He’d noticed them the moment he had left Sakura’a— _Pinky_ , as he has fondly nicknamed her—not that they’re really trying to remain hidden. Either that, or they are just shockingly terrible at staking someone out. Obito guesses the latter. And for that reason, he decides to hold off confronting them until he’s sure that they’re a safe distance away from Sakura’s apartment.

The recognisable sensation of anxiety churns in the pit of his stomach, and heaves its way up his chest. Subconsciously, his fist curls and tightens at the thought of his pursuer being so close to the pinkette, and it only worsens his mood as he continues to stroll down the pavement at a leisurely pace. Carefully, his left hand touches the front pocket of his jeans, feeling for the familiar length of his blade— _Rin,_ his upper lip curls at the name he’d picked out—just as a precaution. For a short moment, he wonders if it is Kakashi following, but banishes that thought almost immediately. As distant as the pair may be at the moment, Obito is doubtful that his childhood best friend is one that would lower himself to a childish game of cat and mouse. Except, in this case, Obito thinks, making a sharp turn to the left and disappearing down a side street, the cat is the one being hunted.

No, Obito thinks, pressing his back against the wall and hiding his shadow behind a nearby tree, listening to his pursuer curse loudly, followed by the tell-tale noise of trainers smacking against the concrete as they rush to catch up with him. This time, he thinks, he’ll allow the mouse to walk right into the cat’s paws.

And so when a man—with violet-dyed hair, Obito notes with a frown—comes barrelling into view, yelping loudly when Obito’s right hand shoots out and grabs him by the front of his shirt. The poor man doesn’t even get the chance to fight back as Obito throws his entire weight forward, slamming the other man against the ground. There’s a muffled grunt of pain that follows the sickening thud of the man’s head connecting with concrete. Obito gives credit where it’s due, as the man somehow stays conscious, even when Obito clamps a hand around his throat, squeezing tight enough to force out a choked cry. Leaning down, Obito snarls in his face, ‘who the fuck are you?’

It takes a few seconds for Obito to realise the man isn’t trying to fight back, and it’s only when a pale hand weakly slaps against Obito’s wrist, that he loosens his hold on the man’s neck. Immediately, he wheezes as he struggles to gasp in a large gulp of air and his chest heaves from under where Obito is straddling him.

‘You’re following me,’ it isn’t a question, but Obito’s voice is low, dangerous, an unspoken threat lingering between the two of them. Upon closer inspection, he realises that the man is older than himself, by quite a few years, he thinks. Not that it matters. Age doesn’t matter when one is being followed in the middle of the night. And Obito is willing to end this man’s life if he doesn’t start speaking soon. A warning hand grasps a fistful of violet-coloured hair, roughly pressing the side of the man’s face into the concrete. He is rewarded with a grimace, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he does so.

Yet, it is only when the cool metal of a blade is pressed to his neck does the man begin to splutter, ‘w-wait, wait, wait!’

Obito’s hold tightens in his hair, ‘you have five seconds to start talkin’ before I start cuttin’.’

‘I meant no harm, honest!’ The man rushes to speak when the blade digs into his neck, a slither of blood escaping. ‘I-I was sent!’

‘Who?’ Obito hisses, eyes narrowed. The man whimpers below him, flinching when Obito’s hand leaves his hair, only to pinch his chin, yanking his face to look directly up at him. ‘Two seconds,’ he warns. ‘Who the fuck sent you?’

The man is hesitant to give an answer, sweat trickling down the curve of his cheek as Obito digs the blade in a little tighter. Throat bobbing, he starts to stammer incoherently, which only serves to irate Obito even further.

‘Time’s up,’ Obito feigns an apology, lunging forward.

The man cries, ‘T-Tsunade!’

Fist curled in mid-air, Obito pauses. ‘What’d you just say?’

The man swallows again, expression regretful as he whispers, ‘Tsunade sent me.’

For a long moment, the two stare at one another. Obito then scoffs. Of course he should have known better than to think that the Senju would trust him so easily. His hand falls to his side, but he remains sat on the man’s chest. ‘Fuckin’ Senju,’ he curses.

Violet hair sprawled underneath his head, the green eyed man appears visibly calmer, despite the nervous glance he aims towards the knife curled into the palm of Obito’s hand. ‘She’s worried about the girl,’ he offers an explanation, regrettably noting the gleam of anger that dances in onyx-coloured eyes that stare down at him, unblinking. ‘S-She asked me to watch the place, that’s all—I wasn’t… I wasn’t sent after you. Promise.’ His smile is sheepish and pained at the same time, and Obito sneers at the sight of it.

‘So you followed me… ‘cause?’

‘She didn’t tell me about you,’ the man replies, brows now drawing together in the middle. ‘I saw you come out of the building, but you’re not on the list—the only Uchiha on there is a kid called Sasuke—and I knew you were one of them—you guys _are_ pretty easy to spot, and—’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Obito drawls, now uninterested. He stands, allowing the man to hurry to his feet, breath coming out in puffs as he pats imaginary dust from his clothing. Obito watches him, almost feeling sorry for him. He’s clearly a dolt, and with how easy it was to pin him to the ground, Obito already has little faith in him. Tsunade should have known better. ‘You gonna be posted there everyday…uh?’ He trails off, now realising that he doesn’t know the man’s name.

‘Dan,’ another sheepish smile. He offers a hand to shake, which Obito glances at with disinterest as he sheathes his blade, stuffing it back into the front pocket of his jeans. Dan scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed when his gesture goes ignored. ‘And not every day. Me and this other guy have a rota.’

Obito takes the time to light a cigarette, scoffing when Dan declines the offer of one, because _of course_ he doesn’t smoke. He eyes the wound on the other man’s neck and makes a motion towards his own with his spare hand, ‘sorry ‘bout the… you know.’

Dan laughs nervously, hand flying up towards his neck, ‘ahah, no problem. It doesn’t even hurt, see?’ He then proceeds to prod it with his index finger, the corner of his mouth twisting into a grimace. A thin trail of dried blood stains his skin, and from where he stands, Obito suspects that it may actually still be bleeding.

‘Should get it looked at,’ he comments offhandedly, not particularly caring if Dan does go to get it looked at or not. He then turns on his heel and starts to continue his journey back to Madara’s house. Behind him, he hears Dan rushing to catch up with him. Obito flicks his cigarette, watching the ash flutter through the air until it lands on the ground.

‘I, uh,’ Dan starts, eyes darting around them as if making sure they aren’t being followed. The action makes the hairs on Obito’s neck stand on end, and his body is immediately tense, eyes following Dan’s trail. ‘About Tsunade… I was going to ask if you could—!’

Obito’s cigarette flies from his hand as Dan catches him off guard by suddenly tackling him to the ground. At first, he thinks the violet-haired man is just returning the favour, the breath knocking from his lungs as they both collide with the ground. And just as he grunts through what he guesses will be a bruise forming across the back of his shoulder, he hears it.

It’s faint at first, so quiet that Obito doesn’t hear it at first, squinting at Dan from over his shoulder when they’ve scrambled into upright positions, crouching behind someone’s garden wall. Heart in mouth, he listens to the sound of multiple footsteps, gradually growing louder the nearer they approach their hiding place. Obito’s hand flies to his pocket, and Dan watches him expose the blade for the second time that night, flicking it open, the shaft glinting as the street-lamp reflects from above their heads. There’s a tense pause as the footsteps suddenly come to a halt, and a muffled, pained voice asks, ‘hey! Why’d we stop—?’

Someone else hisses, ‘shut up, Gai!’ There’s a scuffing noise, followed by the sound of someone’s shoes tripping up a curb. And the same voice snaps, momentarily forgetting to whisper, ‘for fuck’s sake, kid—Gai, why’d you even bring him along? Poor bastard’ll give us away tripping all over his feet like that.’

A third voice cuts into the conversation, ‘ _you’ll_ be the one to give us away if you don’t shut your loud mouth.’

All tension is exhaled from Obito’s shoulders. His head hangs low for a moment, before he rises to stand to his full height. Dan is swift to mimic him, watching as a small group of men suddenly round the corner, coming into view, at such a pace that it’s a surprise that they don’t _all_ trip over each other. The first to notice him is Gai, who exclaims loudly, ‘how great it is to see you, old friend!’

Obito glowers as Genma, signature lazy smirk plastered to his lips, leans close enough to thump his fist against Obito’s left bicep. The Uchiha’s nose crinkles in response to the non-committal _‘sup?_ that is thrown his way. Genma doesn’t even await his reply before his eyes dart to squint at Dan, who remains stood behind Obito. ‘Who’s this?’

‘No-one—’

‘My name is Dan. Nice to meet you,’ Dan offers his hand for the second time that evening. And for the second time that evening, it is rejected. Faltering, the polite smile slips from Dan’s lips, and he almost looks disappointed. Fortunately, Gai is nice enough to shove past Genma, ignoring his loud noise of protest, and roughly clasping Dan’s hand in his own.

‘A new friend!’ He exclaims excitedly. ‘I am Gai, and this is my young, budding apprentice, Lee!’

Beside him stands an uncanny look-a-like—one whom Obito has to do a double take at—dark hair cut into the famous Maito bowl-cut, and eyebrows impossibly thick. The kid is lanky, almost as tall as Gai himself, lithe frame dressed in a pair of running shorts and a tank top, both sewn from a hideous shade of green, like he doesn’t feel the cold at all. He sports a grin that is as wide as Gai’s, and Obito briefly wonders how the two of them met. There’s an unspoken agreement to walk together, as their final destination is the same, and Gai takes the lead, dragging a stumbling Lee after him, ‘come, Lee!’ 

Whilst Gai launches into conversation with a seemingly-overwhelmed Dan, Obito slips his blade into the pocket of his hoodie, eyes meeting Yamato’s. The mousey-haired man nods towards him, offering a small smile in greeting. Yamato has never been one much for words, Obito knows this, and so he simply returns the gesture with a nod of his own, watching as he and Genma follow behind. And during this exchange, Obito realises too late that there is a final figure, who loiters at the back of the group, stood silently with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

Kakashi is weary of him, Obito notes, easily falling into step with his silver haired friend.

No words have to be spoken between the two of them. With one brief glance, Kakashi understands that things are okay between the pair of them once more. Not that he entirely understands why it wasn’t in the first place, as Obito has yet to explain why he’s avoided him for the past couple of weeks. Their last argument is something which Kakashi cannot place the blame on; the two of them have fought and forgiven one another for disagreements much more dire. No, Kakashi thinks, there is something else going on. Something that Obito purposely isn’t telling him, which only increases Kakashi’s apprehension.

From the corner of his eye, he watches Obito light a fresh cigarette, long fingers flicking open the cap and sparking a flame that glowers against his chin. And from this angle, Kakashi catches sight of the undeniable bruise that marks the place where Obito’s pulse is. He hides his frown behind his mask, clearing his throat and accepting the ravenette’s offer of a cigarette.

Again, he isn’t even sure why he’s irritated by the fact that Obito now shares the secrets to Sakura’s skin, that he’s now discovered the touches that make her breath hitch, or maybe he’s also found the trickle of freckles that—

Tugging his mask down so that it rests just under his chin, Kakashi inhales a lungful of nicotine.

A part of him thinks that Obito has done it on purpose. To take something back from him, much like Kakashi had done five years ago. The thought makes Kakashi flinch, an action that he disguises as him pulling his jacket closer over his shoulders. But still, even though Obito engages in casual conversation—neither daring to broach the topic of a certain pink-haired doctor—Kakashi can’t shrug off the feeling of suspicion. He’s known Obito for over half his existence, a hell of a lot longer than anyone else that has both entered and exited his life. And a month ago, Kakashi would have easily said that Obito’s trust expanded as far as his own; indefinitely. But now, as he begins to question whether Obito would still lay his life down for Kakashi’s—a pact they’d made once they’d turned fifteen years old—the more he is convinced that Obito’s night with Sakura only happened to serve Kakashi a taste of his own medicine.

But it’s not like he can re-write the events of the past.

He’s spent five years trying to apologise, and although Obito has never spoken of Rin since the night she walked away—despite the fact that Obito had _begged_ her to stay—Kakashi knows that there has to be a part of Obito that will always resent him for the simple fact that it was Kakashi whom Rin had fallen in love with. It was Kakashi she’d chosen, it was Kakashi she’d wanted to run away with, and it was Kakashi who had promised to stand by Obito instead.

Not that Obito really sees it that way, Kakashi doesn’t think.

No, the Uchiha are notoriously well-known for their unaffectionate stoicism, secrets, and unruly temper.

And whilst Kakashi would argue that for most of the time, Obito doesn’t exactly fit in with the family trademark, as of late, Obito has definitely been living up to the Uchiha name. And Kakashi’s point is proven correct when just as the group is stalking past the gate that allows them into Uchiha Madara’s property, Genma decides to open his big, fat mouth, and makes the mistake of making a teasing comment about Sakura.

‘So, c’mon Boss, tells us. Who’s the lucky bitch?’

Obito’s entire body freezes, and poor Lee’s nose almost collides with the back of Gai’s head when everyone comes to a sudden halt.

Kakashi’s hand stills, cigarette halfway to his lips, and his gaze meets Yamato’s. The unspoken message is obvious: change the subject.

Gai also receives the message, loud and clear, and immediately makes a big show of rubbing his stomach with one hand and exclaiming, ‘oh wow! I _sure_ am hungry! Lee! Dan! Aren’t you hungry, too?’

The violet haired man looks confused, ‘no…? Why would I be—?’ He’s quick to click on when he sees Gai’s forced smile, swiftly changing his mind, ‘actually, yes. Yes, I am. Haha, _so_ hungry.’

‘I am also hungry, Gai-sensei!’ Lee responds with an over-enthusiastic fist pump that Kakashi would have snorted at if it weren’t for the fact that his attention was solely fixated onto Obito, who was now glowering at Genma, who, by now, still hasn’t realised that he _really_ needs to shut his mouth.

‘What you looking at me like that for? It’s a good thing!’ His smirk broadens, gesturing an index finger to the hickey that stains Obito’s skin. ‘I’m kinda proud; we all know you ain’t touched pussy since R—’

‘I suggest,’ Obito says slowly, his jaw clenched, ‘you don’t finish that sentence.’ Kakashi isn’t blind to the warning that glimmers in orbs the colour of obsidian, a head full of dark hair inclining towards Genma. There’s a gentle smile that traces the curve of his lips, yet it doesn’t meet his eyes. It’s uncomfortable to look at, Kakashi decides—he’s earned his own fair share amount of fake smiles over the years—and it never fails to unnerve him.

Luckily, Genma isn’t entirely stupid. He forces a smile of his own, and pretends that he doesn’t see Yamato inching closer to him, ready to step in should he need to. Genma snorts, matching Obito’s scowl with one of his own, ‘I was just messing, Boss.’

‘Hm.’

Obito ignores him after that, evidently irate, and for the remainder of the journey to the front door, no-one speaks.

The outside is definitely a sight to see.

The house is old, that much, Dan can recognise. It looks as if it were built several hundred years ago, all windows and with a porch that takes up the entire front of the house. Pillars stand tall, proudly supporting the top half of the building, and although painted a muted grey and black, the house is extravagant enough to turn anyone’s head a second time. And as they make their way up the driveway, Dan can only admire the collection of vehicles that are parked in a neat row across the gravel. He catches a glimpse of what looks like a stable door at the side of the house, and he can only suspect that the garden is as grande as the building itself.

And when Yamato steps forward to rap his knuckles against the front door, painted an obnoxious scarlet colour—something which Dan thinks looks a little out of place—the group isn’t at all surprised when a familiar face, with a shot of green hair upon the top of his head, answers the door. Zetsu regards Obito with a bored look, which is received with a frosty look of his own. Zetsu takes a step backwards to allow them through the doorway, pausing only when he sees Dan, who openly stares at Zetsu’s hair.

Zetsu is curious of the stranger himself, ‘who—?’

‘Dan—’

‘He’s with us,’ Obito grunts, tilting his head so that Dan knows to follow the rest of the group down the hallway.

Dan isn’t entirely sure why he’s even followed Obito this far—maybe it’s fear or admiration, or both, he’s not sure— but he’s also kinda, sorta, _definitely_ terrified of Tsunade discovering that he’s now basically abandoned his assigned post, and a very large part of him hopes that the young Uchiha will vouch for him. Nonetheless, he offers Zetsu a polite smile before scuffling after the group.

The room that Obito leads them to is large, large enough that Dan comes to the exaggerated conclusion that he could probably fit his entire apartment at least twice in here. In reality, the drawing room is large enough to comfortably house the group of seven, along with the guests that are already awaiting their presence. There are a few faces that Dan suspects may be of blood relation, their eyes as dark as Obito’s, all sporting eerily similar expressions of boredom. On one of the plush-velvet chaise lounge sits the young man that Dan recognises as Uchiha Sasuke, and slumped lazily against him is Uzumaki Naruto. Dan watches as Sasuke mutters something into the blonde’s ear, to which Naruto’s entire face lights up, and he struggles to stifle his laughter, pressing a curled fist to his cheek. The rest of the members, Dan hasn’t a clue who they are. He spots a beast of a man, skin so pale that it almost looks grey, towering above another young Uchiha, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but in this room. When the tall man catches his eye, Dan immediately looks away, pretending that he doesn’t hear the loud bark of laughter that follows. He purposely dawdles at the back of the group, there is one presence that demands his attention.

And Dan has heard stories, of course he has, because, really, who hasn’t?

But as Uchiha Madara looks at him from his place behind a charming desk, beautifully carved out solid oak wood, Dan feels his heart leap into the back of his throat. And suddenly, this seems like a terrible idea. He’s dangerously outnumbered, he realises, sweat sticking the ends of his hair to the nape of his neck.

Madara stands, and the room is silent.

‘Obito,’ his voice is sharp as his attention shifts to his nephew.

Obito’s stare is as hard as his uncle’s.

The room suddenly feels cooler, and Dan watches as everyone crosses the room to gather at the dining table. Dan guesses that it’s not actually used for meals as he eyes the discarded books and pieces of paper that are scattered across the table-top. In the middle, a map is spread out, large enough that Dan can clearly see the pins that have been stabbed through the paper, pinning it to the wood beneath it. There are several different coloured pins marked out, most green, a few blue and one pink.

Dan instantly recognises the location marked by the pink pin.

And then, he feels his own face paling as he also spots two red pins, one marking their current location, the other—to his horror—the destination of the clinic. He swallows hard, hoping that no-one notices him shifting from foot to foot.

‘Boss,’ Genma then says lowly, gaining Obito’s attention, who tilts his head closer, allowing Genma to whisper into his ear. To Genma’s left, Kakashi stills, eyes darting across the table, landing directly on Dan. The violet-haired man avoids his gaze, swallowing again, and then Madara speaks again.

He leans across the table to tap a long, scarred index finger against a green pin. It reads _Kurama Avenue_. The location is popular, Dan recognises, home to the centre of town and several nearby well-known businesses. Including that of the infamous Hawaiian-themed bar. Madara reaches into a tin, pulling out a red pin and switching it with the green. ‘Update?’

It is young Sasuke who answers, expression neutral as he says, ‘secured.’ Beside him, Naruto’s brows pinch together in the middle.

Madara nods, stabbing the red pin through the green’s previous mark.

Dan stares.

He wonders if they’ve forgotten that he’s still stood there, that they’re clearly plotting to gain some sort of authoritative control over the city. In front of someone who, ultimately, is a complete stranger. And the longer he stands there—despite the fact that this is what he’s been sent to do—the faster he wants to escape. Preferably before they expose the true reason he allowed Obito to lead him here. He wonders if the man in question has actually realised that Dan has followed him on purpose, but when he glances up, Obito isn’t looking at him, eyes unfocused as he stares at the map, Kakashi whispering into his ear this time.

‘And that of the Senju?’ Madara asks next, tone clipped as he spits out the name.

‘None other than the doctor,’ Kakashi joins the conversation. His gaze is heavily-lidded as he stands next to Obito, the two almost evenly matched in their height, the Uchiha a simple inch taller. Both look at Dan at the same time. ‘Except for him,’ Kakashi says.

Dan silently prays that his smile doesn’t show his nerves.

‘And you are?’ Madara asks, eyes gleaming with interest. Beside him, another Uchiha, with uncharacteristically curly black hair, hands Madara a folder. The older man opens it, eyes darting across the page quickly as he skims over the document. After he’s done reading, he reads out Dan’s name for the entire room to hear. ‘Interesting history you have here, Senju.’

‘I’m not actually a Senju—’ Dan starts to deny, only to be interrupted.

‘Says here you are,’ the curly haired Uchiha sports a knowing grin as he nods towards the file that is still grasped tightly between Madara’s right thumb and index finger.

‘Kato,’ Dan insists. ‘My surname is Kato.’

‘Does it really matter?’ Genma’s eyes are narrowing at him now, suspicious. ‘You been fuckin’ ‘round with them. Might as well as say you’re one of them.’

‘Tsunade—Tsunade- _sama—_ she’s an old friend—that’s all.’ Dan is sweating now. He can feel it gathering at the back of his neck and trickling down his temples. It dampens the palms of his hands, and he tries to be discreet as he wipes them on his jeans.

The entire room is watching the exchange, and Dan’s eyes immediately dart towards the door that leads back out into the hallway. Zetsu stands before it, arms crossed over his chest, his stare chilling as if he’s daring Dan to even think of trying to get past him.

‘If Tsunade trusts him,’ Obito hums calmly, ‘I suppose we can.’ There’s a pause as everyone nods in agreement, and then, ‘Shisui,’ Obito speaks upon seeing his cousin’s lips part, ‘you’re scarin’ him.’

Kakashi watches as Shisui backs off, albeit begrudgingly, choosing to stand between Itachi and Kisame, both of whom are yet to say a word. He scowls from the new distance, eyes still narrowed.

Madara drops the file to the table, seeming disinterested in continuing the conversation any further. Dan is grateful that he seems to be out of danger for now, but seeks a short reprieve to wash the sweat from his face. And when he politely requests to use the bathroom, Madara looks at him as if disgusted by the question, as do several others in the room, including the previously warm-welcoming Gai and his apprentice Lee. It is Obito who says, ‘this isn’t school—you don’t need to ask permission.’ His tone is light, teasing, but it still makes Dan feel ridiculed.

The entire room is staring at him.

‘I—Uh—’ Dan falters, embarrassed by his own tongue fumbling in his mouth, words incoherent before he manages a quiet, ‘thanks.’

And as he turns to leave, Obito watches him leave—accompanied by Zetsu, who makes a show of true hospitality by offering to show him to way to the bathroom—upper lip curling into a cruel smirk.

The rest of the house is quiet—too quiet, but Dan is too anxious to notice—and by the time he and Zetsu reach one of what Dan presumes to be many bathrooms, he’s sweating profusely. His hands shake as he splashes cold water over his face, Zetsu standing guard outside, and he thinks he might spew up the contents of his stomach. He chances a glance at the door, before looking into the mirror, and he prods a finger at the wound, the blood now dried, but the skin sore to touch. Quickly swiping a cold hand against the back of his neck, and slumping with the short relief it provides, he exhales. He regrets being here. He isn’t even sure what in the heavens possessed him to agree to coming here. The information he’s gathered isn’t something that isn’t known already. But the red pin that was marked on Tsunade’s clinic is what worries him. He doesn’t understand the significance— _will she be the Uchiha’s next target? Or have they already infiltrated the premises?_ —nor is he sure he wants to, but before he can dwell on it further, his thoughts are interrupted by raised voices echoing from the other side of the door.

And then, suddenly, the bathroom door is kicked inwards. It somehow remains attached to the hinges, but the force of which the door flies open is so harsh that it ricochets off of the wall behind it. Obito appears in the doorway, all anger and teeth bared as his nostrils flare. Instantly, Dan knows he doesn’t stand a chance. Wild eyed, he lunges forward and Dan isn’t even sure what happens next, but when he blinks again, he’s lying sprawled on the bathroom floor and there’s a terrible ache throbbing at the back of his head. He touches a hand to the source of pain, eyes wide when he sees the blood dripping from his fingers. He suspects that his skull had collided with the basin on his way down to the ground, if the blood staining the ceramic is anything to go by, but he’s struggling to see now, his vision blurred. He blinks rapidly, just enough to see Obito come into his line of sight, looming over him.

‘Sorry,’ Obito drawls, not sounding very apologetic at all. And the last Dan sees is Obito’s fist hurtling towards his face.

๑

The sound of someone repeatedly banging on the front door to her house is what wakes Tsunade from her slumber. It takes a few moments for her to recognise that she’s fallen asleep in the living room armchair— _again_ , she thinks begrudgingly—and debates ignoring her late-night visitor. However, just as she’s rising from her seat, the corners of her mouth turning downwards as she frowns, there’s another loud knock.

‘I’m coming!’ She snaps, hastily flicking the lock open and all but wrenching the door open so roughly that it produces a gust air that fans her hair back from her face.

She isn’t sure who she’s expecting to see, but when she spots Hatake Kakashi supporting the unconscious body of a familiar violet-haired man, she’s sure that her surprise is plastered across her face. Without hesitation, she rushes forward to grab a hold of Dan’s left arm that hangs limp by his side, and pulls him from Kakashi’s grasp. Dan is heavy, slumped against her as she shifts so that his arm loops over her shoulder so that she has a better grip.

She doesn’t pause to assess his wounds—although it’s hard to miss the unmistakable sight of a broken nose with the blood that pisses down his face—and turns her accusing glare onto Kakashi instead. ‘What the _fuck_ have you done to him!?’

Kakashi’s mask is pulled high up on the bridge of his nose, but it does nothing to hide the narrowing of his eyes. Hands stuffed into the front pockets of his jeans, he says, ‘a message from the Uchiha.’

‘The Uchiha!?’ Tsunade doesn’t bother to hide her enragement. ‘ _You_ did this? Why!?’

Beneath his mask, Kakashi fakes a smile, ‘Boss’ orders.’

Tsunade almost drops Dan on the pavement. ‘You—!’

Kakashi interrupts, ‘you should probably take a look at him. Obito was pissed.’

‘ _Pissed_!?’ Tsunade repeats, spitting the word out so loud that Dan’s head lolls against her shoulder, a small, broken grunt escaping his swollen lips. ‘So pissed that he half kills a man!?’

Kakashi’s eyes blink slowly, ‘he’s not dead.’

‘Fucking _look_ at him!’ Tsunade hisses, but doesn’t allow the silver-haired man to do as she says. She’s already hauling Dan past the threshold of her home, cursing under her breath as she strains to places him into the armchair she’d previously occupied. Kakashi doesn’t await permission to follow her inside, loitering by doorway after he kicks the front door shut behind himself. Tsunade manages to heave Dan into an upright position, swearing loudly as she inspects his facial wounds, tilting his head to the left with a surprising gentleness that Kakashi only raises an eyebrow at.

‘Might want to check his ribs,’ he mutters, meeting Tsunade’s glare with a lazy, pensive look of his own. She doesn’t question his reasoning, all but yanking the fabric of Dan’s shirt upwards. The mottled black and purple is a stark contrast to his pale skin that has taken upon a sickly shade of white. But what worries Tsunade is the puncture wound that curves just under where she knows the seventh rib resides. Blood is already seeping from the large gap, thick and warm as it stains his skin. Immediately, Tsunade tears her own shirt off, completely ignoring Kakashi’s stare, knuckles straining white as she presses it to the wound as tightly as she can.

‘Fuck,’ she chokes back the sob that almost slips out, sweat already trickling down the back of her neck, her brows scrunched in the middle. Without removing her gaze from her friend’s face, she clears her throat, straightens her spine, and says, ‘Hatake. I have an order.’ Kakashi looks at her as if he already knows what she’s about to ask him to do. And it is clearly no surprise when Tsunade then tells him, ‘I need Haruno.’

Kakashi nods, but he’s a moment too slow to comply.

Tsunade’s expression is haunting as she desperately clutches at Dan, his blood now seeping through the thin fabric of her shirt, coating her fingertips. Her head turns and the look in her eye is almost feral as she barks over her shoulder, ‘bring Haruno! _Now_!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed!!  
> \- please show support by leaving a kudos or even a comment; i'd love to hear what you think.


	10. じゅう

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i do not own any of Naruto.  
> \- firstly, i hope that none of you are confused when/if you get an email update for this story, but i changed my username! i wanted to match my usernames with my instagram, and i preferred ‘obitohno’, so this is a final goodbye to ‘madarains’!  
> \- secondly, we’re finally at chapter ten!! it’s also been an entire year since i first started this story, and i want to thank every single one of you for sticking with me for all of this time. i apologise that my updates are super slow; work has been been v busy and my motivation has been non-existent lately. but i’m definitely going to at least try to update every month… but either way, thank you all for your support! i smile every time i receive an email from ao3 whenever you guys leave a lovely comment—they really do mean a lot to me!  
> \- thirdly, i've basically been winging every chapter so far, but now that we've come this far, i decided that i should finally write out a plan for this story because i had no idea where it was going, so now i have a general idea of how i want this story to end, but i also feel like the length is going to end up way longer than i initially planned... oops  
> \- also… i’ve spent the past two days powering through this chapter, so i hope that you guys like this update (pls don’t hate me for the ending, hhh)

Sakura is just about to retire for the night when Kakashi knocks on her apartment door, all tall, dark-eyed and broody. She is surprised to see him standing before her, and although she harbours mixed feelings about allowing him inside, all it takes is Tsunade’s name to slip past his lips, and then she’s already shoving her bare feet into her trainers, keys in hand as she slams the door shut behind her. He makes an attempt to convince her to change her clothing, as she’s just clad in a thin pair of sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, but she ignores his request and demands that he tells her if Tsunade is in trouble.

‘She’s safe,’ he promises, and although Sakura doesn’t voice it, but her relief is evident in her expression.

Kakashi allows her to lead the way to Tsunade’s home, and he fills in the silence by explaining Dan’s condition. He’d hoped that it would calm her a little, but the rushed explanation serves nothing but to quicken her footsteps even further. His long legs aid him in keeping up with her brisk pace, and although he eyes her several times throughout their walk to Tsuande’s home, she doesn’t bother to meet his gaze once. For a reason unknown to him, it frustrates him, and he thinks it’s almost selfish of him to immediately place the blame on Obito. But before he can dwell on his thoughts, he’s distracted by the sound of Sakura rapidly knocking on Tsunade’s front door.

The door flies open, and upon seeing her pink haired apprentice, Tsuande’s exhale is long and drawn out. Sakura physically blanches at the sight of the dried blood that is caked up the blonde’s forearms, but doesn’t remark on it as she chooses to murmur a greeting instead.

‘Haruno,’ Tsunade replies, and the pair are quick to disappear inside. Kakashi dawdles as he follows them inside, pausing to close the front door shut behind him. He hears their voices travel towards the hallway, that then leads him to the downstairs bathroom.

Inside, Dan looks a mess.

He’s awake—much to Kakashi’s surprise—and it’s evidently a good sign, as Sakura rushes forward, muttering a ‘thank god’ as she does so. His back is resting against the side of the bathtub, his torso slouched in what looks to be a very uncomfortable position. The blood has spread, now smeared across his skin, the bathtub itself and it has even started to create a small puddle on the floor.

Now shirtless, Dan’s injuries are on display for the trio to see. Sakura’s hands aim straight towards the towel that the violet-haired man is barely conscious enough to press to his own wound. She’s as gentle as she possibly can be, and her expression falls upon seeing the damage. ‘What happened?’

Dan movements are sluggish, but his head turns towards Kakashi, who leans against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Tsuande watches the pair share a knowing look, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Sakura. The pinkette’s glare is vicious as she glances over her shoulder at Kakashi.

‘What did you—?’

‘Haruno,’ Tsunade interrupts, aiming a pointed look towards Dan. The man forces a shaky smile that looks pained. Sakura nods, immediately distracted, and sets to work.

For the next hour, Kakashi is silent as he watches the two women work together in fixing Dan back together as best they can with the limited supplies they have available. To Sakura, it feels like an eternity has passed before they manage to staunch the blood-flow, and it is then decided that Sakura’s hands are much steadier than her senior’s. Tsuande focuses on cleaning up the gash that stains Dan’s hair, and Sakura begins to carefully stitch Dan’s wounds closed. It seems that the pinkette almost forgets that Kakashi is even present until she flinches upon Tsuande calling his name.

‘Run the bath for me—don’t add soap, just hot water.’

Kakashi does as he’s told without argument.

Another forty minutes pass before they decide that Dan is stable enough to move from his seat on the floor.

By now, the bath water has cooled to a manageable lukewarm temperature, and so Kakashi is assigned the job of carefully hauling the man to his feet so that Tsunade can strip him of his clothing. Neither woman acknowledge his naked state—which Kakashi suspects is due to the nature of their career—both inspecting him one last time before allowing Kakashi to guide him into the bathtub. Dan grunts as he sits in the water, a weak sigh escaping him as he rests most of his weight against the side of the tub. Sakura busies herself with cleaning the blood from the floor, not meeting Kakashi’s eye as he crouches to help her. Once they’re done, Tsunade removes the bloodied clothing, along with the soiled towels, and disappears to put them in the washing machine. Sakura watches Dan’s eyes flutter as he begins to drift off, head pressed against the tiled wall. Kakashi loiters by the doorway, only moving out of the way when Tsunade returns. She kneels by the bathtub, arm stretching out so that she can press the back of her hand against Dan’s forehead. His skin is clammy, something which she voices aloud, but doesn’t sound overly concerned about.

‘Shout us if you start to bleed again,’ she orders before she exits the bathroom, Sakura following closely behind. Kakashi is the last to leave, and Dan peels an eye open to regard him, his expression grim as his gaze darts towards the now empty doorway. His lips part and he silently mouths one word.

_Infiltration._

For a long moment, Kakashi stares at him, confused. His mask hides the downward turning of the corners of his mouth, but Dan can see the frown forming between his eyebrows.

‘What do you—?’

‘Hatake,’ Tsuande’s barks from the living room, and he reluctantly leaves Dan to his bath, closing the bathroom door shut behind himself. Walking down the hallway, he enters the living room to see Tsunade waiting for him. From where he stands, he can see Sakura scrubbing her hands in the kitchen sink, Tsunade leaning against the doorframe as she awaits her turn. The expression on the blonde’s face is unamused. ‘Explain.’

Kakashi glances over towards where Sakura is, eyes narrowing as he makes sure that she isn’t listening. Quietly, he murmurs, ‘he said that you sent him.’

Tsuande’s brows rise so far up that her forehead wrinkles. ‘Excuse me?’ Her jaw clenches and her hands form fists, ‘I can assure you that I did no such thing.’

Kakashi shrugs. If he has to be completely honest, he doesn’t care much for Dan’s presence. He also doesn’t care if Tsunade sent him or not. ‘It’s what he told Obito.’

Tsunade has no response to give him. She’s too busy staring a hole into the bathroom door, as if it will give her any answers. There’s a short pause, and then she blinks, eyes snapping back to Kakashi. ‘I want you to stay away from her.’

‘Away?’ Kakashi echoes, standing up straighter, spine rigid.

Tsunade doesn’t give any indication that she’s aware of Sakura entering the room. ‘They could’ve killed him,’ her voice is hard as she says this, her mouth pulled into a flat line as she stares at Kakashi. He knows what she’s about to say, and as much as he’d rather her not, he knows she’s going to anyway. ‘If the same were to happen to Sakura—’

Kakashi tries to hide the unease he feels at the thought. ‘Obito wouldn’t—’

‘Right now,’ Tsunade cuts in, her glare darkening, ‘I can’t trust that man as far as I can throw him—he’s more animal than he is human.’ From the corner of her eye, she sees Sakura shift on the balls of her feet, her expression one of unease. She sneers, ‘the truce exists for a reason, Hatake. But right now, you _men_ seem to forget that.’

‘The truce?’ It is Sakura who interrupts this time, stepping closer. Her gaze is aimed towards Tsuande, questioning, evidently confused.

Tsunade exhales heavily. There’s a tense moment, and then she orders, pointing, ‘sit down.’

Sakura immediately obeys. Kakashi loiters by the door, pressing his weight against the frame as he leans on his shoulder. For a moment, he wonders if Tsunade is going to kick him out, but much to his surprise, she simply sits in the armchair by the fire. She runs her fingers through her hair, momentarily forgetting that her hands are still stained with Dan’s blood. As if just realising, she stares, fingers splayed.

Her gaze unfocused, she explains, ‘I was twenty years old when I met Madara.’

Her eyes close and she leans back against the back of the armchair.

‘He was a friend of my cousin’s—best friends, in fact—even though they’re complete opposites.’

Sakura shifts in her seat, leaning to get a little more comfortable. Kakashi remains still.

Tsunade scoffs, ‘I had begged Hashirama to take me as his plus one to a friend’s wedding, and Madara happened to also be there.’ Sakura isn’t sure if she imagines the ghost of a smile that passes over the blonde’s face, but as soon as it appears, it vanishes. ‘We’re all close in age, so it was easy to get along with him, I suppose.’ She’s frowning now, her eyes opening as she frowns. ‘And then I fell in love with him.’

At this, Kakashi actually blanches. He hadn’t expected that revelation at all. Sakura appears to be as bewildered as he is, ‘y-you… fell in love?’

Tsuande’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes, ‘I probably should’ve guessed why Hashirama never spoke about Madara whenever we were at home, but I didn’t find out he was an Uchiha until after we started our affair.’

‘Affair?’ Sakura blurts, eyes wide. Kakashi swallows, hard.

‘Hm,’ the blonde hums. She smiles bitterly. ‘It didn’t last long—only for a summer—but even though we’d tried to be careful, someone saw us together.’ Her expression is suddenly very tired, and Sakura thinks that she looks very lonely. ‘They almost killed him once they found out, but neither of us wanted to get Hashirama in trouble too, so we let the elders punish us as they saw fit—Hashirama never forgave them for that.’ She pauses to clear her throat, eyes glossy, ‘not long after that, there was a fight, one of our boys died, and Madara was named as the murderer.’ Her lips purse, her brows pinching together as she glares down at the ground. ‘I didn’t believe it was him—and I still don’t—but that was it. My uncle wanted him dead, but I couldn’t watch them kill him.’

Sakura’s hands are covering her mouth, Kakashi notices, her eyes wet with unshed tears.

Tsunade inhales deeply, forcing a smile to her lips. ‘I told him that I was as much to blame as Madara was, and so if Madara had to die for something as simple as falling in love with the wrong person, then I was guilty of the same crime.’

Kakashi stares, unsure of how to feel at this revelation.

‘Of course, he wasn’t going to order the death of his only niece,’ Tsunade recalls the memory with a sneer, eyes narrowing at nothing in particular. ‘So with Hashirama’s help, we put forward the idea of a truce—no fighting, no killing, no warring. I think they only agreed because it was Hashirama who was backing me—he was in the process of taking over leadership from his father, so his word had more worth than mine—I was lucky.’

She doesn’t miss Sakura’s disgusted expression.

‘After the Uchiha reluctantly agreed—I heard Madara put up as much of a fight as Hashirama had—I left the family.’

‘Left…?’ Sakura echoes, looking as if she’s about to cry.

‘It wasn’t discouraged—let’s put it that way—my leaving meant they were able to save themselves the embarrassment of having an _Uchiha-fucker_ in their household,’ Tsunade’s smile is more earnest as she regards her apprentice. ‘My surname may be Senju, but I haven’t seen, nor heard from my birth family for almost twenty-five years.’

She looks up to see that Kakashi’s head is lowered, his arms crossed over his chest. He hasn’t made a sound since she started speaking, something which Sakura has also noticed, apparently, as she glances at him from over her shoulder.

Tsunade’s spine straightens as she sits up in her chair. Her expression becomes much more serious as she looks at Sakura, leaning forward so that her elbows now rest on her thighs. She looks Sakura in the eye as she says, ‘I don’t want you to make the same mistake I did, Sakura.’

Sakura can use one hand to count the amount of times Tsunade has addressed her by her first name. It terrifies her.

With a quick glance towards Kakashi—whose head has now lifted to peer towards the hall, where he can hear water sloshing from behind the bathroom door--Tsuande warns the pinkette, ‘don’t fall for their charm. Promise me.’

Sakura is genuinely bewildered. ‘What—?’

‘Sakura,’ Tsuande’s voice is like steel, her gaze stern as she stares at the pinkette. ‘I may not have been in contact with my family for a long time, but I am not blind. I have patients that belong to both sides—it’s a dangerous place to be involved with either Uchiha or Senju. Promise me that you won’t let them suck you in.’

‘I—’ Sakura thinks of Obito, and she immediately feels the corners of her eyes beginning to sting with the tell-tale signs of tears. Her bottom lip juts out in a pitiful attempt to stop it from trembling, and her head ducks, her hair falling to frame her face in such a way that it’s hidden from Tsuande’s view. There’s an audible sniffle, and then a whisper, ‘I promised that I’d help… I can’t just leave them— _him_.’

Tsunade doesn’t have to ask to know who she means.

‘The Uchiha are a family of stubborn bastards, Haruno,’ she feigns a smile when Sakura’s head lifts to peek at her between a curtain of pink hair. ‘I know how damn well hard they’ve worked to get to where they are—’ She pretends to not hear Kakashi shifting in his spot by the doorway, ‘—but their one downfall is that they also love very, _very_ hard.’ She sits upon the very edge of her seat, and stretches out an arm to wipe a tear from Sakura’s face, whom doesn’t seem to mind the dried blood on her mentor’s fingers. ‘If he cares for you as much as I suspect he does, then I’m worried that he won’t be able to let you go, even if he tried.’ She eyes Kakashi from the corner of her eye, but his eyes are now closed, chin still tilted towards the ground. ‘Even after twenty-odd years, Madara still tries,’ Tsunade scoffs as if annoyed by the fact.

The tears are bubbling in the corners of Sakura’s eyes again, and when Tsuande watches her muffle a sob into the crook of her elbow, her face falls, empathising with the younger woman. 

‘It’s not entirely too late for you to get away, Haruno,’ Tsunade states matter-of-factly. ‘I have people with the Uzumaki and they can keep you safe if you—’

At this, Kakashi’s eyes snap open and his glare is hostile. ‘The Uzumaki are off limits. They’ll—’

Tsuande doesn’t look at him, eyes glued to the side of Sakura’s face, who has now turned her cheek to curiously peer at Kakashi. ‘Don’t forget, _boy_ ,’ Tsuande’s eyes narrow, warning, ‘I have been around much longer than you or that Uchiha pup have. If I want them to watch over her, they will. They owe me.’

‘Uzumaki…?’ Sakura breathes, her eyes widening upon her realisation. ‘But Naruto—’

‘That brat is one of them, yes,’ Tsunade clicks her tongue as she says this, ‘well, was.’

Sakura’s expression is one of blatant confusion. ‘Was?’ She’s not even surprised that Tsuande knows of Naruto’s existence.

Tsuande shrugs dismissively. ‘Another story—one that he should tell you himself.’ It’s clear that she has no interest in elaborating, and neither Sakura or Kakashi push for an answer. Instead, the pinkette wrings her fingers together—a nervous habit that she’s harboured since childhood—and chews on her bottom lip. She then runs a shaky hand through her hair, her gaze focusing onto her fingernails once she pulls them free from the knotted strands. There’s still traces of blood underneath them, despite her having washed her hands already. She picks at the dried flakes distractedly, unable to pinpoint one coherent thought. Her mind appears to whirl at a hundred miles an hour, trying to process everything that her mentor has told her. She’s so busy trying to decipher her own thoughts that she doesn’t hear Dan weakly calling Tsunade’s name, nor when her mentor answers, ordering the violet-haired man to wait for her to help him out of the bath.

She doesn’t move when Tsuande stands to do exactly that, nor when Kakashi also busies himself with helping the blonde. Not that he has much choice, as she barks at him to hoist a shivering Dan from the bathtub—‘ _be careful, Hatake! If you rip his stitches—I swear to Christ!_ ’—and aids him up the stairs, towards the spare bedroom. The process is painfully slow, and through all of it, Sakura is left to her thoughts.

Even long after Kakashi finally makes his exit, eyes lingering on Sakura’s hunched shoulders and bowed head before he disappears out through the front door. By the time Tsuande is draping a blanket over Sakura’s shoulders, the sky is beginning to lighten, and they can already hear the early birds chirping as they wake.

An hour passes before Sakura speaks again, ‘why did you summon me here tonight?’

Tsuande is sat in her armchair, dressed in a different set of clothes, skin now cleaned of her friend’s blood, nose buried in patient’s notes. Sakura doesn’t recognise the name on the file, nor does she care to, her eyes sore as she blinks them to focus on Tsuande’s face. When Tsuande doesn’t answer, Sakura feels her own fists clench, irritated. It takes far too long for the blonde to set down the file onto the small coffee table. She sighs as she meets Sakura’s gaze, her voice emotionless as she says, ‘to warn you.’

‘Warn me?’ Sakura repeats, pink brows pinching together. ‘About what? I don’t even know that man—’

‘No,’ Tsuande cuts in to agree, nodding. She looks rather bored as she then says, ‘but it was _your_ man who almost killed him tonight.’

‘My…’ Sakura is ashamed to feel her own cheeks burn once she realises that Tsuande is referring to Obito. ‘He’s not my—’

‘Answer me one thing, Haruno,’ Tsuande is leaning forward to look her in the eye once again. Sakura tries to hide her discomfort. ‘Do you love him?’

‘L-Love him!?’ Sakura splutters, incredulous. ‘I’ve known him a month!’

Tsunade’s eyes narrow. ‘But you care for him, yes? You _could_ grow to love him?’

Sakura thinks of their night together, of the way he held her, and the way he kissed her, and the way he—

She clears her throat. Wonders how much simpler her life would be if she hadn’t met Obito, or Kakashi, for that matter. It may have only been a month—or has it been two now? She doesn’t remember—but she can’t deny that she cares for either of them. She knew of the dangers that came with being associated with them, and yet she still made the promise to help them when they needed. She pretends that she doesn’t remember Kakashi’s part of the deal they made, but she can’t deny that it felt nice to have not one, but two men, doting on her the way they had. Even if it was just for a night. But despite all of that, despite the risks that may come of her being involved with them, despite Tsuande’s warning, Sakura already knows that it’s too late.

Whether she wants to admit it or not, she’s already attached. Even if she tries to stay away, even if Tsunade called upon the Uzumaki to protect her, Sakura knows that she simply can’t go back on her promise.

Because Tsuande is right.

She _could_ grow to love him.

The look on her face must have said it all, because the sympathetic look Tsuande gives her makes her stomach twist uncomfortably. Sakura can only be grateful that she, at least, doesn’t look disappointed. She looks away, breath shuddery as she mutters, ‘I’m sorry.’

Tsuande doesn’t verbally acknowledge her apology. Instead, she inclines her head in a slow nod, a pensive look passing over her features. After a few long minutes, she stands, ‘you should get some sleep, Haruno.’

And at that, the conversation is over.

When Tsuande allows her to share her bed—as Dan is residing in the spare bedroom—Sakura curls under the duvet, her knees drawn to her chest. She’s still awake long after she listens to Tsuande’s breaths deepen to a slumber. She’s also still awake when morning finally breaks through the curtains, and even when she can hear the neighbour’s car pulling out from their driveway. She briefly feels a bout of anxiety at the thought of them overhearing the commotion, but before she can dwell on it, her eyes finally lose the battle to staying open, and she sleeps.

Across town, Kakashi hasn’t slept at all.

The Uchiha household is busy this morning, several lower-ranked members cleaning up the mess that was made the previous night. On his way up the stairs, he overhears Madara barking something about Obito ruining his _favourite fucking painting_. Kakashi doesn’t listen to the spluttered reply—reluctantly given by whichever poor bastard is unfortunate enough to deal with the eldest Uchiha’s temper this morning—yet as he reaches the top of the stairs, he clearly hears Madara bellow, ‘where the hell is the little shit, anyway!?’

Upon reaching the third floor, Kakashi passes by a curly-haired Shisui, who peers at him with mischievous eyes that gleam knowingly. But faster than Kakashi can turn to glance at him from over his own shoulder, Shisui has already disappeared. It’s as if he wasn’t there in the first place, and as he pauses, bewildered, Kakashi wonders if he imagined seeing him in the first place. Shaking his head, he blames it on his own exhaustion, and when he finally reaches the door that leads to Obito’s room, his feet are lazily dragging across the carpet. But upon entering the room, he sees that Obito isn’t present. He’s just about to turn on his heel, ready to continue his search for his childhood friend, when something catches his attention.

On the beside table, there is an open space beside the lamp.

A space that Kakahsi knows to have been previously occupied by a photograph that the silver haired man can easily picture with his eyes closed. The photo of he, Obito and Rin had been sat on Obito’s bedside table for as long as Kakashi can remember—even long after Rin had left. And whilst Kakashi is sure that he should feel relieved at the fact that Obito has finally moved on, he only feels unease. He already knew that Obito harboured some sort of infatuation with a certain pink haired doctor, despite the fact that it may seem a little odd, given that the pair have only known each other just over a month. At first, he’d pinned it on Obito trying to punish him by spitefully laying his claim on someone Kakashi had been interested in. However, the removal of the photograph makes Kakashi start to think that maybe the Uchiha’s fondness for Sakura is genuine.

He swallows down the bitter taste that’s formed at the back of his throat, lips curving under his mask to create a smile that is forced for only Obito’s wall-length mirror to witness. He eventually turns towards the door, frowning so furiously that it actually hurts his forehead. As he yanks the handle shut behind him, he hesitates for a moment. Dark eyes glide over to the door as if he can see right through it, and despite the ache forming between his brows, his scowl only deepens. And when he eventually descends the stairs, he can still hear Madara ranting and raving from where he assumes the older man to be inspecting the mess his nephew had created in the living room. When Obito returns—whenever that may be—Kakashi won’t envy him when he eventually has to face his uncle’s wrath for making such a mess.

Entering the kitchen, he raises a single silver brow at the sight of both Shisui and Itachi, who appear to be avoiding bumping into their uncle under the guise of preparing lunch. Itachi seems to be doing most of the work, Kakashi notes as he crosses the room to wrench open the fridge door. He retrieves a bottle of water, and when he glances up, his gaze immediately meets Shisui’s.

The same secretive grin passes over the dark haired male’s lips, and it serves nothing but to irritate Kakashi as he struggles to decipher the meaning behind it. Shisui seems to sense this, and his smile morphs into something more spiteful. The sight makes Kakashi’s stomach churn. And then as he blinks, the smile vanishes, and forms into something more genuine when Itachi gains his attention by ordering him to wash an iceberg lettuce. Kakashi leaves them alone, especially when they begin to bicker over who will prepare the meat, Itachi making a very valid point of, ‘you can’t be trusted with knives.’

When Kakashi chugs down his first gulp of water, stood outside on the step that leads to the garden, his eyes close and he welcome the cool sensation that trickles down his throat. Out here, it is quiet, something that he welcomes as he stifles a yawn with the back of his hand, the corners of his eyes watering slightly. The silence also allows him to think a little clearer, which he quickly comes to regret as his thoughts immediately jump to Obito. The missing photograph makes him uneasy, he’s willing to admit that, but what also puzzles him is Obito’s reaction towards Dan’s presence. Yes, the man may be a Senju—by association, at least, Kakashi thinks as he recalls Dan being adamant that his surname is Kato—but Tsuande had been right.

‘ _Right now… he’s more animal than he is human_.’

Obito _had_ almost been animalistic last night. It’s no secret that it’s within Uchiha blood to be a little wild, but Obito had taken that term literally when he’d beat Dan within an inch of his life. The enraged look on his face had easily disguised the mania hidden in the depths of his iris’, and it had almost been impossible to spot the fleeting look of panic that had skimmed over Obito’s features when he’d eventually calmed down enough that it could dawn on him just exactly what he was doing. He’d looked downright broken as he’d stared at Dan’s body, bloodied and crumpled on the floor. And if Kakashi hadn’t spent the entire evening watching him, he’d would’ve missed the hoarse apology that had choked its way out of Obito’s mouth.

But despite whatever reason Obito has conjured up in his own head to justify his actions, Kakashi doesn’t think he actually meant to do it. He’d meant to hurt Dan, yes, but as a warning. It’s standard to rough up a man just enough to ensure he keeps his mouth shut. But even Kakashi had been worried when he’d been assigned the task of hauling Dan’s body to Tsunade’s home. He didn’t think he’d survive the journey—the women really had done a wonder in keeping him alive.

Kakashi huffs a sigh, and then downs another mouthful of water. He balances the empty bottle on a windowsill, left hand stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans, blindly searching for the familiar cardboard box that he’s looking for. He makes quick work of lighting a cigarette, and just as he pressing the tip to his lips, a shadow is cast over his face as someone steps into his eye-line.

Obito looks a mess.

He’s dressed in the clothes he was wearing when Kakashi last saw him the night before, and as he regards his friends with red-rimmed eyes, it’s clear he hasn’t slept either. The wound above his eye has split open again—Kakahsi can’t guess how or why—and when Obito reaches out to pluck the cigarette from Kakashi’s mouth, his knuckles look as if the skin has been obliterated. They’re red-raw, bloodied and swollen, and Kakashi doesn’t doubt they feel as painful as they look. He isn’t quick enough to hide his grimace, the corners of Obito’s mouth tugging downwards.

Upon closer inspection, as he lights a second cigarette, Kakashi notices that the Uchiha’s eyes are swollen, the whites of his eyes tinged a pale pink as if he’s been crying for a long time. The right one has taken on a worrying shade of grey, which Kakashi suspects to be a forming bruise. His hand shakes as he lifts the stolen cigarette to his lips and he inhales deeply, the smoke billowing from out of his nostrils. His eyes are closed now, his back leaning against the wall as his head leans back, chin titled towards the sky. It’s a bright morning, the air warm even just an hour or so after sunrise. The light accentuates the extent of his injuries, yet Obito seems to be ignoring the thin trickle of blood that curves down the side of his face.

Kakashi watches him for a moment.

‘Your uncle’s pissed.’

Obito sucks in a hiss shortly after scoffing out a low, harsh laugh. He winces, his free hand coming to press against his rib. Kakashi’s eyes narrow in on the area, swallowing when he sees the spot of scarlet that is staining Obito’s shirt.

‘What’d you—?’

‘Had worse, ‘Kashi,’ Obito’s smile is strained, yet weak at the same time. It doesn’t reach his eyes. He pushes his weight from the wall, tall frame wavering enough that Kakashi braces himself, ready to catch his friend should he fall. Obito inhales another drag, licking the inside of his cheek once he’s pushed the cloud of smoke from between his lips. Kakashi’s cigarette burns between his fingers, forgotten.

His lips part to ask Obito just what the hell happened for him to wind up in such a state. But he doesn’t get the chance, as the back door flies open so roughly that it ricochets in such a way that Kakashi is surprised it doesn’t come off its hinges. Madara looms in the doorway, face as thunderous as Obito’s was the night before, and Kakashi thinks it’s uncanny how _all_ Uchiha manage to inherit the exact same facial expressions.

‘You—!’ Madara starts, stomping his way out into the garden, and over his shoulder, Kakashi spots the younger Uchiha spying from the doorway, as if entertained by one of their own being reprimanded by their uncle. However, it never comes. As soon as Madara takes one look at Obito’s bruised and bloodied face, he pauses. Then he spots the flush that has heated Obito’s cheeks and built a sweat upon his brow. Obito’s smile is sheepish, pained and false, and it doesn’t sit right on his features. And then, much to everyone’s horror, he coughs, and a splatter of blood flies out of his mouth and lands onto the grass.

For a long moment, no-one moves.

And then all at once, Madara is lunging for his nephew, catching him just as Obito’s eyes roll into the back of his head. Madara is barking orders at the youngsters as he’s man-handling him into the house so quickly that Obito’s cigarette flies from his limp hand. There are too many people shouting at once, and Kakashi barely has time to stub out his own cigarette and rush to the door before it closes on him. He follows them into the hall, where Madara orders him, ‘you! Get his legs. This fucker weighs more than he looks.’

Kakahsi helps him haul Obito into the study, away from most of the prying eyes, the door slamming shut behind Shisui, who watches as Madara and Kakashi lower his cousin’s unconscious body onto the chaise lounge. Itachi is already kneeling beside him, left arm held out as he counts the seconds that tick by on his watch, his right index and middle fingers pressed to the inside of Obito’s wrist. Those sixty seconds feel like an eternity, but when Itachi finally pulls back, his grim expression is a tell-tale sign of bad news.

‘He needs help,’ he states the obvious, ‘urgently.’

Madara growls something incoherent under his breath, before his hands shoot out, yanking the fabric of Obito’s shirt upwards. What it reveals makes Kakashi’s stomach lurch.

An array of puncture wounds litter his skin, some so wide that they’re gaping enough to reveal the fat beneath. His stomach looks swollen, blood smeared where Obito has evidently tried to staunch the flow with his shirt. The bruising indicates signs of at least one broken rib, his entire right flank bloated from some form of impact injury. Kakashi’s fists clench at the sight, and even Madara _tch_ ’s under his breath. ‘He should’ve come to us sooner,’ Itachi mutters as he rips the shirt from Obito’s body. The fabric splits down the middle and Itachi shoves it out of the way as he leans over Obito’s torso, frowning at a particularly deep wound. It isn’t bleeding, thankfully, but the skin around it is irritated, red and swollen. ‘Much sooner.’

‘Hngh,’ Obito suddenly groans, eyelids fluttering as he attempts to wake. Then he’s trying to sit up, and he actually cries aloud, left hand flying to clutch at his ribs. Madara presses his hands to Obito’s shoulders, pinning him down.

‘Don’t move.’

Obito doesn’t put up a fight against the demand, his head lolling and his eyelids drooping as he blinks slowly. Itachi is still inspecting him, his frown deepening with each second that passes. ‘That girl you mentioned yesterday,’ he says after a long few minutes. ‘Would she—?’

‘Pinky,’ Obito slurs the nickname, voice croaking as if he were drunk. Kakashi isn’t entirely sure how the man is conscious right now, but he’s surprised by the strength in his friend’s grasp as his fingers curl tightly around Madara’s wrist in a poor attempt to pull himself free. ‘P-Pink—’

‘Alright,’ Madara huffs, unamused. ‘We’ll get you your fuckin’ _Pinky_.’ He then shifts his glare to Kakashi, questioning, ‘any idea what he’s on about?’

‘No,’ the lie is blurted out, instant.

Madara eyes him for a second too long, but doesn’t say anything.

‘Sa—’ Obito croaks, and from where he stands, Kakashi watches his facial features twist into an expression of agony. He spits out something unintelligible, blood trickling down his chin as he does so. Itachi appears to have pressed a little too hard, and he murmurs an apology after Obito stifles the trembling of his bottom lip by digging his teeth into it. The trickle of a lone tear escapes the corner of his left eye, and even Madara has nothing to say as he observes it melting against the curve of Obito’s cheek. ‘—Kura.’

And before anyone can react, his eyes roll again and he’s out once more. No-one speaks as Itachi finishes his assessment. There’s a pause as he sits on his haunches, voice quiet as he repeats, ‘he needs help.’

Kakashi is offering to help before anyone else can. He doesn’t want to ask Sakura for help as he wants her as far from the Uchiha household as possible—a sentiment that he’s sure Obito would share if he were awake—and after Tsunade’s revelation, she’s definitely not an option. So instead, Kakashi aids Itachi in patching Obito up as best they can. Shisui also helps, as does Madara, and between the four of them, they have enough experience in order to manage to do a decent job. Once Itachi determines Obito out of immediate danger, it is an unspoken relief. And hours later, after his friend has been carried to his own bed, Kakashi sits in the chair beside him, watching him sleep. He can’t help but glance towards the beside table, where he silently mourns the missing photograph.

Fleetingly, he wonders what Rin would say if she knew that Obito no longer yearns for her, but for Sakura instead.

๑

Two weeks later, Kato Dan is murdered in the comfort of his own home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- thank you so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed!!  
> \- please show support by leaving a kudos or even a comment; i'd love to hear what you think.


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